The Needle in the Hay
by OCsRuleMyLife
Summary: America has been abducted by an unhappy and lonely Russia.  For that reason, the large cities in the country are banding together to get him back.  WARNING:  Tons of OCs.  T for swearing and just to be safe in case of... mild sexual encounters.  Yeah.
1. The Meeting

Chapter 1

Washington D.C. sat in his chair, and pushed his large glasses back up his nose. He looked around the table, seeing the other large cities chatting and ignoring him… as usual. New York leaned back in his chair, his fedora covering his eyes and his business jacket sporting a bright red rose. Chicago had a very similar fedora, and at least pretended to pay attention while chewing his cigar with his hands in his trench coat pockets. Philadelphia had her arm wrung in Chicago's, an alluring smile on her pretty face, blond hair flowing smoothly down her shoulders. Detroit had his usual scary grin on his face, and his frizzy hair was… well, frizzy. Miami and Honolulu sat gossiping away in the corner of the table, exchanging whatever stories that had acquired. Watching those two girls silently and contemplatively was Anchorage, who had his fur coat politely placed over the back of the chair, his rifle leaning up against the table beside him. Los Angeles leaned back as far as the chair would let him, his long hair falling over his eyes and his arms folded over his white tank top. Nashville was strumming something out on his guitar, but at least had enough decency to find a way to plug it into some complicated jumble of musical machinery which ultimately ended in headphones. But he could swear they were missing someone… at that moment, the door slammed open to the meeting room, and a figure in a black hoodie and jeans shuffled in holding a cup of Starbucks Coffee. "Sorry I'm late, guys, I had to get my coffee." New York looked at Chicago. "You hear somthin'?" Chicago shook his head, "Nope." The newcomer glowered dangerously at the two other boys, and put his coffee down on the table, taking his seat. D.C. had to think for a moment as to who had just entered. Los Angeles, without moving from his position, spoke flatly and calmly. "Hey, Seetle. What's up, dude?" The addressed city sighed loudly, and took a sip of coffee. "Seattle. Not Seetle." L.A. was silent for a moment, and then responded with the same calm tone, "Whatever, dude." D.C. groaned to himself, and lifted his judge's hammer, pounding it down on the table. "Shut up!" The shout came out as less than intimidating, and in fact rather wimpy. Still, it got the point across, and everyone sat back up in their chairs and looked to D.C. "Do you all know why we're here today?" Everyone shook their head in the negative. D.C. mentally facepalmed, and scratched the top of the table awkwardly. Time to break the news… "Boss has been kidnapped." Everyone erupted in shouting at once, and D.C. covered his ears for a while, then pounded his gavel once more. "People, people! Shut your mouths!" The cities quieted down slightly, and New York piped up. "Boss as in… America boss? Alfred F. Jones? The big guy?" D.C. nodded gravely. "Russia abducted him." More shouting and raging. More gaveling. "Guys! SHUT. UP." They quieted down again, though everyone looked tense. "We're going to have to get him back." Detroit spoke next, a very crazed expression on his face. "But he's RUSSIA. We're just cities. What are we gonna do? Legislate him to death?" There was a nod of agreement. "Hear me out, guys!" The wimpy voice echoed again, and everyone quieted down. "What makes up America? We do! His cities! His curl is Nantucket for goodness' sake." A couple of people seemed to agree with this statement. Eventually, after much discussion, they decided on going to get their boss back.

"But we can't do it alone," D.C. concluded his speech, "We'll need a bit of help from a couple of the smaller cities." New York frowned. "There are a few large enough cities to be in this group that simply just don't come… but we don't need them." He grinned and leaned back in his chair. "We can do it ourselves." There was some agreement from a few of the other cities. Nashville, having actually listened to part of the conversation, butt in in a calm, smooth voice, "For once, Cap's right, y'all. We can't do this on our own. I ain't sayin' y'all ain't tough and big and whatnot, but… y'all ain't tough and big enough to knock Russia down all on your lonesome. So… we need help." This seemed to be a popular theory, and soon people had stood up to leave and come back with whatever power they could bring.

Dallas watched her phone ring, the caller I.D. reading 'Nashville'. She wasn't at the meeting because she didn't like anyone there, and that was that. Him least of all. The phone rang its final time, and a voice message began. "Dal, ya need to answer yer phone more. Anyway, I just got one thing to say: Russia kidnapped boss. Kay, bye. Call me when you get this." Dallas blinked for a moment at the phone, then dashed around her table, grabbing the phone and lifting it to her ear, hitting 'dial last caller' on the board behind the phone. He picked up, and his voice came through the phone, "Wow, that was quick."

"Nash, did you mean boss boss?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, like, head honcho, boss."

"Alfred?"

"Yah."

"Yah."

"WHY THE HELL DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME EARLIER?" She roared into the phone, and she heard Nashville's clatter to the floor. He knelt down to pick it up again. "Sorry, sorry, I apologize. I just got home from the meetin'." She calmed herself down, resisting the urge to drop the phone and shoot it. "Where are we meetin'?" He paused after she asked that, and responded slowly, "Cap's house I s'pose…" Both ends were silent for a while, which was broken by Dallas. "I'll be at yer house in a few hours. Kay?" Before Nashville could object, the phone was hung up. He took off his straw cowboy hat and scratched his dirty, brown hair. He collapsed into a wooden chair in his living room, putting his brown cowboy boots onto the wooden table in front of him, his legs crossed in their slightly ripped blue jeans. He placed the hat onto the corner of the headboard for the chair, and stripped himself of his jeans jacket, revealing his solid maroon red button-up shirt. He looked down, staring at his large belt buckle for a moment, contemplating whether or not to go to the airport to wait for Dallas. _Naw… she knows the way here._ He grabbed the hat again, and put it over his eyes, closing them, and folded his arms over his chest. It was time for a nap.

Dallas stood outside of the house, her black cowboy hat tightly on her head. Her blue eyes scanned the front of the building, mentally confirming it was Nashville's. The night was cold, and she had her jeans jacket wrapped tightly around her, since her top covered nothing but her chest. Her legs had goosebumps all over them, since she was wearing her characteristic short jeans shorts. She had black tennis shoes on, and her somewhat short blond hair was put into pigtails. She rubbed her freckled cheek slightly, then pounded on the door. "Nash! Let me in!" There was the noise of a shuffle of feet, and the door swung slowly open, revealing the fourteen year old boy otherwise known as Nashville, his guitar in his hand. "Hey, Dal. Come on in." She stepped in as he stepped out of the way, and she gave him a sort of glower. He shook his head, with a face that asked, 'Do you hate everyone this much, or just me?' He leaned his guitar against the wall, and went back to his wooden chair. She sat on his couch, which was surprisingly comfortable, since it looked so lumpy. She watched him with her usual glare. "When are we leavin' for D.C.?" Nashville raised an eyebrow at her. "Tomorrow morning. We ain't in that much of a hurry yet. When the ransom notes come… then we're in a hurry." She nodded, and when back to laser staring. "There's a bed for ya to sleep on in the back room. Dunno how nice it still is. Ain't used it in forever and a day." She frowned at him, and gave another glower. "How kind of you." He frowned at her, and walked down his hallway. "G'night, Dal. I'll see ya in the mornin'." She glowered down the hall, and then sighed, chewing her next words. "G'night, Nash…" She eventually went to the bed, which was also surprisingly comfortable despite the lumpiness, and fell into a decently restful sleep.

New Orleans looked over at her cell phone, hearing it buzz, and looking at the contact. 'Miami'. She grinned, and opened the message. 'Meet at D.C.'s place 2morrow afternoon. Alfred bn stolen by Russia. ~DolphinLove~' New Orleans replied immediately, 'R u joking?' Her phone buzzed again, 'No joke :('. New Orleans blinked at her phone once or twice, and then pocketed it, immediately grabbing her saxophone. She played it for a very long time. She put it down in its stand, and took off her purple beret, laying it down gently on her bedside table. She took off her green, purple, and white beads, then began to fiddle with her black hair. She stroked her tan skin, and pulled her white, low cut tank top off, lying down in the bed. She knew she would have to be up early the next day to fly to D.C. _I should get some sleep…_ Regardless of how much she tried, she could not bring herself to drift into the land of dreams.

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><p>Alright, this is my SUPER OC story. There will be fun, there will be fighting, there will be guns disguised as boobs! What? That's right, guns disguised as boobs. Curious? I'm not sure how many chapters in that will be, but we'll see. This will not be super long, not nearly as long as Living Secret, but it may or may not have Georgia in it. We'll see. I will take requests for what cities to put in this story, but, be warned, I WILL take them and twist them into my own creations. Oh, and, there will be yaoi. Mild, that would be no worse than k+... I think. So yeah. This is the pilot episode, per se. Please review!<p> 


	2. Nashville and His Way With Women

Chapter 2

Little Rock rolled over on her bed, or rather, off her bed, collapsing to the floor with a loud **thwump**. She groaned, and sat up, looking at her clock. It read '2:14'. She groaned again, falling backwards onto her floor, and closing her green eyes. When it was clear there was no chance of falling asleep, she climbed up, using the bed as a support, and wandered to her kitchen for a mid… for a snack. She opened her refrigerator door, and grabbed the nearest thing in sight: a carrot. She took a munch out of the carrot, sighed, and turned, walking on bare feet to her kitchen counter to grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with milk. She jumped when the phone on her wall muttered at her, "One new message." She looked at it curiously, and took a tentative step toward the phone, picking it up, and listening to the message. "Li'l, ya need to answer yer phone more. Anyway, I just got one thing to say: Russia kidnapped boss. Kay, bye. Call me when you get this." Nashville's telltale voice rolled smoothly through her phone, and she blinked at it for a moment. It was probably a little late to call him, but she might as well give it a go. She dialed his number and listened as the phone rang a few times. Soon, Nashville's tired voice again rolled through her phone. "Yah?" She smiled to herself, and spoke, "Hey, Nash, it's me, Li'l. I was wonderin' 'bout that message I found on my phone jes a few minutes ago…" Nash chuckled tiredly, "What, ya jes got it?" She sighed, "Yah… I did." "We're meetin' at Cap's house tomor- later today, so ya can hop up to my place or leave in a few hours." She thought for a moment. "I'll leave in a few. Oh, and Nash… I've got an emergency." She tugged on her dirty-blond hair, and bit her bottom lip. Nashville responded slowly, "And… what might that be?" She whispered, as if she were sharing some terrible secret, "I done ran outta fish…" There was silence for a while, and Nashville sounded a little put off. "Outta fish? Ain'tcha got carrots?" She blinked, and looked at the carrot in her hand, then whispered again, "But… my snack ain't complete without a fish, too…" Nashville had nothing to say to that, except, "Ask Cap tomorrow. I'm sure he's got one for ya." She nodded to herself and hung up the phone. She then realized how rude and stupid that was. _I'm always so awkward around him…_ She sighed, and munched her carrot once more. She looked over at the fridge, and opened it, grabbing herself the jug of milk, and putting it on the counter. She took a glass out, and placed it where she could pour easily. Once the milk was poured, she drank it down ravenously, and walked into the bathroom, examining herself in the mirror. "Well, Li'l, you'd better be all spruced up for yer big day today! Though… it ain't starting for another twelve hours or so…" Regardless, she braided her hair into the long blond tail it usually was in, ran and grabbed her jeans, slipped them on, and also put on her plaid, red, short-sleeve, button-up, shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone. She tucked in the shirt, and checked in the mirror. She looked from the side, measuring her hips, from the front, from the other side, turned to see if it made her butt look too big, and then turned back to the mirror. "Maybe I should undo one more button…" She tried this, and looked contemplative for a moment. "Naw… then I jes look like I'm chasin' him…" She tapped the counter of the sink, and frowned. "I wonder what a meetin's like… I ain't never been to a city meetin'… I sure hope the other cities are nice!" She smiled to herself, and buttoned up the third button once more, looking proud of her outfit. She sat in her living room, finished her glass of milk, and went to sleep again with her clothes on.

When Dallas awoke, she smelled black coffee being made, and bacon and eggs cooking. She sat up, pulled her clothes back on, and wandered to the source of the smell. Nashville smiled at her when she entered the kitchen. "Mornin' sunshine. Want some coffee?" She glared at him, and sat on a stool, nodding. "Sure…" A steaming mug of black coffee was placed gently in front of her, and she looked down at it. "Careful… it's hot." She nodded again, and let it cool off before sipping it. The blue ceramic plate of eggs and bacon was placed before her shortly after she began to sip. "Eat up. We got a flight for Cap's place in three hours." She nodded absentmindedly, and began to quickly eat the food. In roughly thirty minutes, they drove down to the airport, and got ready to head out for D.C.

Russia frowned, looking at America sadly. "What, you do not like it here?" America growled at him. "Not really, Commie." Russia sat beside the bed America was tied up to. "I am not Communist any longer. And I am just lonely, da? You will keep me company?" He smiled innocently at America, who shook his head. "I'm not keeping YOU company! Let me go!" Russia moved to sitting on the bed beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Please? I promise not to hurt you…" He leaned closer to America, who turned his head away. "No way! No, no, no, no, never!" Russia frowned again, and took America's head in his hands. "Come now, Alfred… I'll be gentle, da?" America had a terrified look on his face, and was about to be subdued by the power of Russia, when a knock on Russia's door interrupted them. Georgia's voice echoed softly through the room. "Big brother, Rairai spilled coffee on your paperwork. Can you come and help us?" Russia called in response, sounding happy, but looking quite peeved, "Da. I'm on my way." He released America, but kissed him on the forehead, then walked to the door, exiting through it, whispering to his captured toy, "I'll be back for you, da?"

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><p>Yay! These chapters are super short, I know. But see? Georgia! It's never too late to request characters, kiddies! Little Rock was a request (hope you like her, Museless Writer). And yes. That is RussiaxAmerica you see. Stay tuned, because the next chapter will involve blushing, gavelling, cocky New Yorkers, and probably Russia being... odd. But not too odd. I don't like my Russias that way. ;) Anyway, please review, and have a lovely day.<p> 


	3. No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem

Chapter 3

Washington D.C. sat at the end of the table with a mug of something warm, sipping silently, reading the daily paper with his absurdly large glasses put off to one side. His fingers tapped on the edge of the long table quietly, following some unheard rhythm that not even he could identify. He looked around the empty meeting room briefly, examining his surroundings. He took a brief glance at the clock on the far wall, which read in its analog format, '1:45'. He sighed, and looked back to his paper. _I know I need to be at my own meetings early… but I'm beginning to regret coming an hour and a half early… I thought I'd been here a while. It's been fifteen minutes._ He sighed once more, and listened to the tick of the clock, sipping his hot drink. In just another five minutes, the door to the meeting room opened, and he looked up, a little surprised. A girl he had never seen before stood before him, with green eyes, a long sandy-blond braided pony-tail, a plaid red and white button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone, blue jeans, and… no shoes. She smiled at him cordially. "Gooday… I'm Little Rock." He blinked, and grabbed his glasses to better see the girl.

"Why, good afternoon, Little Rock… please, have a seat, will you?" He motioned to the many empty seats around the room, and she took one about halfway down the table, and sat restlessly in it. After a while of silence and staring at the table, she looked up at him. "So… you D.C.?" He nodded silently, sipping his drink and reading the paper, not looking up. "When do ya s'pose everyone else'll be here?" He shrugged, and gave her a one word answer. "Late." She frowned, and stared at the table again.

She remained staring at the table, occasionally muttering something about sports or carrots and fish, for about an hour. At just about two fifty, the door opened again, this time with a loud **CRACK** as it slammed against the wall. A boy with a bit of scruff on his chin, snakeskin boots, long jeans that were ripped a little at the knees, a white button-up with short sleeves, a Winchester rifle in his off hand, and a worn-looking cowboy hat on his head, stepped into the room. "Howdy, ya'll. Sorry 'bout the door… didn't know ya made such weak doors in the capital." The large boy smiled slightly, and took off his hat, looking for a place to set it. D.C., who had just recovered from the initial shock of the door slam, crawled back into his chair from his spot on the floor, and pointed to a hat rack in the corner. The new boy smiled, and placed the hat on the rack. "Thanks, pal." He sat at the table, and laid the rifle down upon the wooden surface, looking up at D.C. "'Sat alright?" D.C. nodded, and stared at the tussled brown hair on the newcomer's head. "I… I don't mean to pry… but… who are you again?" The scruffy boy looked up with a shocked look on his face. "Washin'ton! I thought ya'd have 'membered me. 'Sme, Houston."

D.C. blinked once or twice, and then nodded. "Oh yes… I remember you now. Why don't you ever come to meetings anymore?" The now announced Houston watched him contemplatively for a few moments, then tapped the table. "Nothin' gits done." He then looked at his lap, and fell silent. The door opened once more, and two more familiar faces were present.

Nashville looked around the room and blinked, seeing only Houston, D.C., and… Little Rock. She grinned at him. "Nash!" She stood up and half ran, half walked over to him. He looked at her, and nearly instantly gathered one thing; she had forgotten her shoes. "Hey, Li'l. Where's yer shoes…?" She looked down, blushed brightly, and then looked back up at him. "I… forgot 'em." He smiled slightly at her, and she smiled a little at him, her pale, freckled cheeks accentuated with a blush. Dallas barged into the room, glowering at everyone. "Break it up, y'all. Let me get to a seat afore ya start flirtin'." Nashville chuckled, and stepped to one side, holding his guitar out of the way for the ornery girl behind him, who sat as far from anyone who had come as she could. Little Rock was blushing profusely, staring at the floor. She was now nervous for two reasons; she wasn't going to know anyone besides the people who were in the room at the moment, and she had just embarrassed herself in front of Nashville. She looked up at him, and managed to stammer out, "N-Nash, I don't know anyone… so… will you sit with me…?" She blinked at him, and he smiled slightly, and put a hand on her shoulder. "'Course I will, Li'l." She smiled a bit, grabbed his arm, and dragged him to the seat beside hers, where he laid his guitar against the table, and sat down, her clinging to his arm. Then, at the same time, an influx of three people immediately happened. The first two giggled and clung like they were sisters. Miami and Honolulu stepped into the room, gossiping about whatever they felt like. Just behind them came a mildly tired-looking New Orleans, purple beret slightly askew, and her long black hair definitely untouched, as it fell in strange knots and odd loops. The three of them sat together, and New Orleans looked around the room, and waved at Nashville with a slight smile. He waved back, also with a slight smile, and then leaned back in his chair, finally remembering to remove his hat. Dallas glared at everyone, her hat still firmly on her head, though her jacket was off, revealing just her very skimpy top. Little Rock looked between New Orleans and Nashville. _Why did she wave at him like that? That's how II wave at him. SHE can't wave at him that way._ She felt a slight bit of protectiveness over Nashville, and caught herself before bearing her teeth at the Cajun girl across the table. She instead gave her an 'I'm watching you' look, and clung to Nashville a little bit more. He looked down at her, and frowned slightly. "You alright, Li'l?" She looked up at him, and nodded. "Yah. I'm fine. Jes… nervous." He smiled at her slightly. "Don be. It ain't that bad, you'll see." She nodded again, and mentally grilled herself for lying to him. It wasn't REALLY a lie… but it was. And she knew it.

At three o'clock sharp, D.C. looked up. "Where is everyone?"

Houston shrugged, and spoke helpfully, "Maybe their flight's delayed?" D.C. shook his head and tapped his fingers once more, ready for the long wait.

Detroit mosied in first, his scary grin on his face, and a red stain on his black coat. Everyone looked at him oddly, until he sat down, and grinned more broadly. "Ketchup." No one even dared to question it, and he simply went back to grinning at nothing in particular. At about ten after, Los Angeles trudged in, yawned, and collapsed in a chair, leaning back until he hit the wall. At about twenty five after, Chicago tried to sneak in, shirtless and belt unbuckled, but his hat on prim and proper. Everyone looked up, and D.C. glared 'dangerously' at him. He spoke in a somewhat weak voice, "Where is your shirt? And why are you late?" Chicago waved it away, pulling a jacketless and slightly shirt-unbuttoned Philadelphia in behind him. "Relax, my friend! I was simply being instructed on… brotherly love, by our dear friend Philly!" Philadelphia smirked, and shook her long blond hair out of her eyes, Chicago's trench coat in her hand and his shirt in her other. D.C. looked at them skeptically, and shook his head. "If THAT'S brotherly, I would hate to see what it would look like if you two got together." Nashville and Houston looked disapprovingly at the new entries, and Dallas just glowered. New Orleans raised an eyebrow, taking a close and very inconspicuous look at Chicago's chest, and Miami snapped a few pictures. Little Rock really didn't know what to think, and so she just tried not to. In about five more minutes, Seattle slipped in, coffee in one hand and a plate of fish in the other. "Sorry, I was—"

D.C. interrupted him annoyedly. "Getting a latte and fish, we know." Seattle blinked, and sat down beside LA, who gave him a soft smile. Little Rock stared at the fish longingly, having gone more than fourteen hours without her favorite snack. Seattle looked up at her, and smiled. "Would you like a piece of fish?" She grinned, and nodded, and he passed her one of the larger pieces. She nibbled it happily, and looked to D.C. The room was getting relatively full, and so she wondered who was left. This question was answered as the sound of large boots came down the hallway, and Anchorage stepped into the room, his rifle in one hand, and his pet grizzly bear behind him. He turned to the bear. "Bear. Stay." The bear looked at him, and blinked. "But—" Anchorage cut the bear off with a frown and an interruption, "No buts. No scaring the people we don't know." The bear sighed, and lay down by the door, closing its eyes and licking its lips silently. Finally, at approximately four twenty five, much later than even Anchorage, one more person stepped into the room. He had a business suit on, black shirt, black tie, black fedora, black pants, and a small rose just below the collar of the pinstripe jacket. He had a briefcase in one hand, and smiled at D.C. as he stepped in. "Good afternoon, children." D.C. glared at him, this time with legitimate unhappiness, however ineffective.

"New York, sit yer butt down and shut up." It was Houston who spoke, glaring at the fedora-wearing man. New York looked taken aback. "But… I'm only twenty five minutes late!" D.C. pounded his gavel on the table angrily. "Try an hour and twenty five." New York blinked, looked at his watch, and stomped his foot. "Well, it's a good thing you waited for me!" Detroit had his ordinary scary face, lacking in grin. "You're not THAT important, kid." New York glared incredulously at Detroit. "More important than you… and everyone in the room. So yes. Yes I am." His eyes then rested on the glaring, but scantily clad, Dallas, and he tipped his hat. "Why, good day, ma'am." She tossed the nearest piece of paper at him, glaring still. He looked shocked, but sat down next to her with every ounce of New York charm he could muster. D.C. pounded the gavel once more. "Now… we may begin."

Russia sat beside America on the bed, giggling as he talked quietly to him, occasionally stroking his hair. "I am happy you are here. I am not so lonely now, da?" America glared up at Russia, and got ready to spit, but found a large hand over his mouth. "Nyet, nyet, nyet. No spitting on me, da?" America swallowed the gathered spit, and watched Russia as he took his hand away. "How long do you intend to keep me here, Commie?" Russia thought for a moment. "I don't know… until I am no longer lonely at all, da?" America frowned, but fell silent. Suddenly, he felt a pair of surprisingly soft lips on his cheek. He turned his face away, and jammed his eyes closed. Russia climbed a little farther onto the bed, and turned America's head towards him slightly. America fought against it as much as he could, but found his head being turned closer and closer to Russia's face. He sucked in his lips, jammed his eyes tighter shut, and tried to turn away again and again. The only contact he felt was a slight kiss on his nose. But then there was one on his cheek, then a bit lower, then to his jaw, and the kissing began moving up his jaw. America shivered, inwardly denying that he enjoyed any of it. But before Russia could place the final kiss, there was a loud knock at the door. Ukraine's voice came softly through the wooden frame. "Vanya… I have some money for you. Please come out here, and I will give it to you." Russia looked quite put out, but stood, and walked, slightly dejectedly, to the door, smiled back at America, then left the room.

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><p>There be chapter 3. Which is the longest chapter yet. I told you there would be blushing, gavelling, and cocky New Yorkers! All three were there! Also, it's STILL not too late request cities! (Russian cities are fair game too at this point.) Houston was a request, if you didn't already know that. (Sorry, Animateia, he'll be more of a feature in later chapters. Hope you like him~) I tried to work on the speaking spacing, but when I tried it full out, it just looked dorky. Sorry... 'hi'. Thanks for the suggestion, I'll keep on doing that from now on. The next chapter MAY include chainsaws, shotguns, fish wars, fishING wars, Broadway, or any mixture or mention of that list. It will also include more RussiAmerica. Because Russia needs some love too. Please review! Have a fantastic day, and toodles! *Waves*<p> 


	4. Ten Million, Ten, One Tenth, No

Chapter 4

"We should all introduce ourselves, since some of us are new, and some of us haven't been around for a very long time." Washington D.C. looked around the room at everyone before making a slight adjustment to his suit jacket. "I will start. I am Washington D.C. You may call me Washington, D.C., or Cap. All are appropriate."

Los Angeles tossed his long hair and spoke slowly. "I'm Los Angeles… you dudes can call me LA… most people do…" He flipped his hair once more, and fell silent.

"Seattle. Not Seetle. Not fishboy. Not coffeeboy. See. At. Uhl." Seattle glared at New York first, then Chicago, who was just getting his shirt back on.

Little Rock was next around the table, and blinked, stammering out, "I'm… I'm Little Rock. You can call me Li'l, though…" She looked up at Nashville, who smiled slightly at her.

"I'm Nashville. Most people call me Nash." He accidentally bumped his guitar, and grabbed it before it fell down.

Anchorage was next, speaking in a deep, rumbly voice. "I'm Anchorage. Nobody really has any nicknames for me…"

Dallas tapped the table anxiously. "Dallas. Or Dal." She glared at everyone in the room.

New York smirked slightly, and leaned back a bit in his chair. "New York City. Most people just call me New York, because I might as well be the whole state." Everyone rolled their eyes.

Philadelphia looked around the room with a warm smile. "I'm Philadelphia. Philly if you like."

Chicago looked at her for a while, before realizing it was his turn. "Chicago. Nothing else really to call me…"

Houston fiddled a little with his rifle, and scratched the furze on his chin. "I'm Houston… y'all can call me Hewey if y'all feel like it."

Next around the table was Detroit, who grinned scarily at everyone. "I'm Detroit!" He grinned again, and a riveter fell out of his coat, covered in something red. "Just ketchup, I assure you. I dropped it after fixing up a car."

Everyone looked at each other nervously, until Miami spoke up cheerfully, "I'm Miami!" She waved energetically and giggled a little.

Honolulu spoke next, smiling, a little more calmly than Miami. "I'm Honolulu. You can call me Lulu."

New Orleans yawned, and spoke slowly in a very Cajun-sounding voice. "I'm Nawlens… sorry. New. Orleans. Nawlens."

D.C. looked around again, making sure there was no one left. The grizzly bear at the back of the room stood up on its hind legs and said in a growly voice much like its master's, "I'm Bear." It then lay back down, yawning and licking its lips.

D.C. looked around one final time, and pounded the gavel. "Now that that's all through, we need to start working together—" Before he could continue, Detroit stood up at the same time as New York and Chicago. Detroit pointed to the other two, and said loudly, "I refuse to work with THEM." Chicago and New York both pointed at Detroit, and said simultaneously, "We refuse to work with HIM." D.C. pounded his gavel a few times, and frowned at the three standing boys. "Sit down. Before I throw my gavel at you." They sat down, glaring incredulously. "We need to all work together to get boss back. Understood?" Everyone nodded, though Detroit grumbled. D.C. thought to himself, frowning. _And I haven't even gotten to the kicker yet…_ He cleared his throat, prepared for mass shouting. "And… we'll need ten million dollars from each of you, if you want to manage to get anything decent to get boss back." And, as expected, the mass shouting occurred. New York shot up, and pounded his fist on the table. "I ain't got ten million bucks free! I ain't got TEN bucks free! I ain't got ten CENTS free!" Detroit yelled at him, "You just don't want to give up your damn Broadway!" New York glared, "That has nothing to do with this!" Seattle threw a piece of fish at Detroit, "You have a problem with Broadway?" Anchorage got hit in the side of the head with a piece of fish that had fallen off the plate that Seattle had bumped while standing up, and grabbed a full fish, knocking Seattle over with it. Seattle stood back up, grabbing his own fish, and facing down Anchorage. They stood on their side of the room, fighting with the fish. Anchorage growled at the smaller boy, "You're just mad that I sunk your crab boat." Seattle slapped him on the side of the head with the fish. "You're just jealous I caught a bigger swordfish!" The two of them continued with their interchanges, and D.C. gaveled insanely, while Detroit began to tell about how he had plenty of money since he didn't have that stupid thing called Broadway, and Chicago glared at him, standing up, a baseball bat in his hand. "If you're so rich, why don't you pay for the rest of us, ass hole?" Detroit glared across the table, and raised his hands, a chainsaw suddenly in them. "You wanna call me that up close, Al Capone?" But before Chicago could reply in the affirmative, there was a loud double gunshot. Everyone froze, and looked around to see who the owner of the gun was. Little Rock stood beside Houston, her with a shotgun, he with his rifle. There were corresponding holes in the ceiling from each of them having fired off. Everyone blinked at the unexpected pair, and sat down. Houston spoke loudly and clearly. "Sit yer rears down in yer chairs, an' let Washin'ton run the meetin'." Everyone obliged instantly, and then Little Rock and Houston sat down in their original seats.

Russia looked at the girl in front of him, wearing her long, dark brown coat, her round brown hat, and a medal on her hat. She had hazel eyes and a prominent, but not unattractive, nose, and had a long brown pony-tail. She held a hunting rifle with a large scope, and sat cross-legged in the wooden chair across his desk. "Moscow… I need to ask you a favor." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure, boss. What is it?"

"I need you to go to America, da?"

"What for?"

"To… delete any unwanted resistance."

"Like… what?"

"Like big cities. Keep them from pestering me, da? Alfred said they would be displeased with the current situation. Therefore, someone needs to stop them before they do something… rash."

"I understand perfectly, boss. When do I leave?"

"As soon as you can. I've got you a stealth jet, and you should be able to land undetected."

"Where?"

"South Dakota, da? It will be in the middle of the night, so you'll have to be quiet. And please… don't get yourself hurt."

She nodded, standing up and smiling at him. "Alright, I'm off boss."

"Good. Don't miss your flight."

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><p>Alright... back to short chapters. I promised, I delivered. (Museless Writer, I will have you know that Moscow will be quite... prominent in the next chapter.) The next chapter will definately include many weapons, much fighting, and possibly annoying ten year olds. In the Badlands! Stay tuned, children, and it's STILL not too late to request cities! (Houston will also be important next chapter. I swear.) Have a fantabulous day, and review please!<p> 


	5. Bigger In Texas Only Goes So Far

Chapter 5

After everyone had settled down, D.C. looked around the room again, his face slightly red. "Okay, everyone… if we DON'T have ten million dollars… we'll just have to do it ourselves." Everyone looked at each other, and silently exchanged words. Detroit spoke up with a scary grin, "I say we do it! There are more of us now. Let's go get boss back!" He almost stood up; until he saw Houston watching him calmly, hand still on his rifle. He sat down again. Seattle took a sip of coffee before continuing. "I… I agree with Detroit. We should go help boss." D.C. nodded, and leaned back slightly in his chair, which only made him look even stiffer than he already had. "Sadly, it simply doesn't work that way. We'd need to arrange all sorts of things. Undetectable flights, espionage, you know the drill. So… we'll have to get ready."

* * *

><p>Moscow looked at the floor beneath her, a trap chute ready to let her out. They were still over Russia, but flying fast. She moved her cylindrical hat slightly, and sighed, turning her head towards her hunting rifle, and reaching for it, putting it in her lap. She smiled slightly, taking a long look at the rifle, and then closing her eyes, her hands holding the familiar wood of the long weapon. She drifted to sleep, and still the rifle sat well in her hands.<p>

* * *

><p>The cities' meeting lasted for hours, discussing various points of entry to Russia, vehicles to use, and other similar things. Eventually, Nashville spoke up. "This is a goin' ta cost jes' as much as it was to bring an army. Ain't there no better way?" Everyone nodded in agreement, and Seattle murmured quietly, "I've got a plane…" Everyone looked at him, and New York scoffed. "Does it have a ghost device, though?" Seattle smiled slightly. "I've got connections…" New York blinked. "What do you mean?"<p>

"The original Boeing headquarters is just miles from my house."

"Oh." New York blinked again, and Seattle looked a bit smug. D.C. smiled a very small bit. "I suppose that solves that problem."

* * *

><p>Moscow was awakened by a loud voice over the speaker. "Alright, we're over the Badlands. We're dropping you off in thirty seconds." In twenty seconds she stood by the chute, a parachute on her back. "We're opening the hatch in ten, nine, eight, seven, six," she poised to jump, "five, four, three, two, one, GO!" The hatch opened, and she leapt down into the open, starry sky. She smiled as she felt the wind rush by her, and at just the right moment, she pulled the pin on the parachute, and she landed safely to the ground. She landed in the bottom of a valley, a dry creek bed to her right amid red and tan rock, a waterless strip of grass running down the center of the valley. The rocks around her were taller than she, and with a little searching, the thing that had seemed a valley was truly a bowl. She clambered up a slant of crumbling rocks, and stood at the top of it. She looked around, and could see that from here out, everything was plain and flat, with occasional dips or rises that were simply random rocks or crevices. She began walking across the rocky terrain, rifle firmly in hand.<p>

* * *

><p>D.C. had managed to get everything written down in a large binder, and was about to close it, when his cell phone gave off a loud ring. He put his hand into his pocket and took his phone out, answering. "Hello, Washington D.C. here."<p>

"It's me, Wall! Tony says there's a crazy lady in the Badlands!"

"Tony… alien, Tony?"

"Yup! He just dropped by for some free ice water (and a scoop of ice cream for just three dollars!) and to tell me that some Russian girl was running around in the Badlands."

"How long ago did Tony tell you this?"

"Just a couple minutes ago. How fast can you guys get here?"

"That depends. Is it important?"

"Tony said she had a gun."

"We'll be right there." He looked up at the other cities in the room, hanging up the phone. "It's Wall—" Before he could continue, almost everyone in the room, even Seattle, said, "Who?" D.C. frowned. "A little tiny city in South Dakota. If city's even the right word… In any case, he called to say that is a Russian girl wandering in the Badlands. And she's armed. If our past experiences with Russia are anything to go off of, she probably needs to be stopped, and soon." Everyone nodded, and looked around at each other.

"How… how will we get there?" It was Little Rock who spoke, looking a little concerned. Seattle smiled, and looked towards her. "My plane is faster than anything you've ever seen. We'll be there in an hour, maybe less." He stood up, and so did a few others. D.C. stood up and grabbed his gavel. "Let's get going, then."

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><p>In just a little over an hour, the cities previously in a meeting were standing outside of the small town of Wall. A ten year old boy wearing a black baseball cap and a black t-shirt reading 'Wall Drug' ran out to them with a bucket of ice water. "Oh, hey guys! I'm Wall! Anyone want some ice water? It's free!" He grinned at everyone, and held the bucket up. Everyone looked at each other and shook their heads. "I've got ice cream for just three dollars, too!" Everyone shook their heads again. New York grabbed the child by his head, and looked at his face, speaking annoyingly slowly. "Where. Is. The. Russian?" Wall frowned at him. "I speak English you know. Or do you have something in your throat? Because I have some stuff for just five dollars that—" New York cut him off, "Shut up! No more speech shall be emitted from your mouth!" Wall looked at him oddly. "Were you born in, like, the fifteen hundreds or something? Because nobody talks like that anymore." New York sighed, and shook his shoulders. "WHERE'S THE RUSSIAN?" Wall made a very pouty face, and crossed his arms. "Jeez, you don't have to shout. She's out in the Badlands. Or she was an hour or so ago. That's what Tony told me any—" His words were cut off as a bullet crashed into New York's shoulder, knocking him backwards. Everyone sprang into a circle, even Wall, around New York, who clutched his bleeding shoulder. Houston frowned, and loaded his rifle. "I've gotta feelin' she ain't in the outer Badlands no more…" He located the flip of a brown coat, and fired a shot after it, running after the figure, placing the next powerful bullet into his rifle. Dallas looked after him, and ran, grabbing his arm. "Brother… don't go alone." No one else noticed the two of them behind one of the buildings of the town. "If ya don't want me alone, come with me, sis." She smiled slightly, and nodded. "Kay." Two more voices said the exact same thing. They turned to see New York and Wall smiling at them. Dallas glared at them, and spoke flatly. "What are y'all doin' here?"<p>

New York smiled at her. "Helping out, of course. It's just a shoulder wound. Everyone else has their eyes out for the tops of buildings. The four of us will sweep the town, and hopefully flush her back to the rest of them, and get this whole thing over with. This kid," he pointed at Wall, who grinned broadly, "will take us around town, and show us where she might be. Sound good?" Dallas glared at him. "Fine. Just fine."

The three of them wandered silently through the town, keeping a close eye out for the Russian girl. There was a sudden gunshot when they got in front of the water tower, and the metal wiring helping keep the tower up snapped. Another shot was fired, and the next metal wire flipped away with a loud **ping**, and the front of the tower began to fall forward. Dallas swore, and began to run. She had no space to make it, but she felt two arms wrapped around her waist, and she was carried away as the tower collapsed to the ground. She looked up, expecting to see her brother standing over her, but found New York instead. She glared at him, and muttered quietly, "Thank you…" He grinned, and pulled a gun out of his suit jacket. "Now let's hunt some Russians." Dallas was then surprised, as the other three all suddenly looked very serious. Wall was holding his bucket of ice water like a weapon, and Houston held his rifle. She turned her head slightly, to see the reason they all looked so grim. There stood a girl with a cylindrical brown hat, a brown coat, and a hunting rifle in her hand. She smiled at them, tossing her hair, as she raised the rifle to her eye, and began to pull the trigger. The shot rang out, but had a very different result than Dallas had expected. The rifle lay cracked on the ground, instead Houston's rifle smoking. She dove behind a set of concrete blocks, pulling out a pistol as she did. The four American cities hid behind the fallen water tower, and Houston and New York placed their guns on the upper part of the tower, aiming for a shot. But, however long they waited, no shot came. Instead, a bullet skidded across the tower from directly behind them. All four spun, and as another bullet flew towards them, Wall swung his bucket, and, surprisingly, the pistol's shot went skidding away. "I DARE you to try that again! My bucket will break your FACE!" There was a Russian accented laugh, and a hatted head popped above a barrier. "Then come over here and prove it." Wall looked a little skeptical. "I'm not stupid! You'll shoot me!" The girl fired three more shots in quick succession. The first was deflected by Wall's bucket of ice water, the others knocked New York's and Houston's guns out of their hands, sending them sliding along the pavement. The Russian girl stepped into the dark, lampless street, and dropped her pistol, kicking it down the street, took off her coat and tossed it, and removed her hat, placing it with the coat. "I am unarmed aside from this." She pulled a long hunting knife from her belt, and smiled sadistically. "Come over here, and break my face. Or I will go and grab my pistol, and shoot your friends." Wall looked between the larger boys beside him, who both shrugged. He walked slowly, carrying his bucket cautiously. When he was about ten feet away from her, she dove for him, swinging her knife, which was blocked against Wall's physics-defying bucket. She spun, and kicked the small boy in the stomach, and he slid back, falling onto his rear. She stood over him, and began to bring down the knife, which was again blocked by the bucket. He rolled, and kicked her feet from under her, standing and swinging the bucket down at her. She slid between his legs, toppling him again, and was about to stab him, until he staggered out of the way. All this time, Dallas had been slowly reaching her hands up her bare stomach, up to her thin top. She slipped her hands under the bottom of the fabric, and grabbed what appeared to be her chest, until she pulled out twin six shooters, and aimed them directly at the Russian girl. New York stood wide-eyed, but had a small grin on his face. "I thought everything was BIGGER in Texas, not—" Houston punched him in the back of the head, and he fell over, out cold. Dallas nodded her thanks, and fired off two shots, and proceeded a few more times with each gun. Moscow dove out of the way, and Wall slammed her in the side of the head with the bucket. There was a loud **crack**, and it seemed like the bucket might very well have broken the Russian's face. Blood streamed down the side of her face, but she staggered back against the wall, knife held tightly in her hand. Dallas pointed the pistols at Moscow again, and stepped forward. She dropped the one in her left hand, and proceeded forward until she was pointing the gun to Moscow's head. "I have a bad mem'ry. I don' 'member how many shots I fired with this here gun. Either four or five. Yer Russian, let's play some roulette." She spun the ammunition section with her thumb, and pressed the gun against the Russian's temple. She pulled the trigger. Just a click. Moscow, who had been sweating in nervousness, suddenly brought the knife around, going to stab Dallas in the side. Her arm was blocked by Dallas' and Moscow was kicked back. Dallas gulped, pointing the gun at her again, and pulling the trigger. Another click. She dove to the side as Moscow grabbed the pistol she had kicked down the street from the ground, and fired it at where Dallas was standing. The dust from Dallas' dive rose massively, and when it cleared, the Russian girl, and all her belongings, had disappeared.

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><p>Kay guys... that was... very... painstaking... poor everyone. I liked that. It was pretty awesome. Violent, and bloody, and not particularly cheerful, but awesome. I suppose. Please review! And there are your guns disguised as boobs. Next chapter, prepare for fluff and relationship development! And yes, Wall is now a party member. So, again please review. It is STILL not too late to request them cities. There is also no limit to the amount of requests you can make. Thank you to my reviewers, I love you (not in a way that my girlfriend would kill me over, of course)! So yeah... have a superdy duper day! Bon voyage!<p> 


	6. Color and Feeling

Chapter 6

The party of four returned to the plane, to see everyone still standing around, weapons out. Houston looked at everyone, and frowned, "She done got away. We'll hafta make camp here for the night, I think." Everyone looked a little nervous, but eventually set to working on a fire. No one could seem to get it to work, and eventually Wall came over to them and grinned, pulling out a pack of matches. "Quality pack of matches for just two dollars and fifty—" Chicago grabbed the matches out of the boy's hand, and dropped two dollar bills and two quarters in its place, grumbling about stupid prices, and lit a match, and then the fire. Everyone sat around it quietly, with Miami and Honolulu giggling and chatting. Little Rock sat beside Nashville on one side, and happened to have Miami on her other side. At one point, Nashville went up to go get some ice water from Wall, and Little Rock looked at Miami, and tried to have a conversation. Miami looked at her oddly. "I'd love to talk to you, except, I really wouldn't. I mean, it's nothing against you or anything… but, I just don't like you. Never been a fan of freckles. And, I don't mean to offend, but, you aren't exactly the prime example of pretty in our little group here." New Orleans looked shocked at Miami, and Honolulu looked incredibly embarrassed. Little Rock blinked, and turned back to the fire, looking at it with dumbfounded expression. Honolulu punched Miami in the shoulder, and glared. "What did you say that for?"

"I just didn't want to talk to her."

"A pretty mean way of going about it, yah?"

"Well… I just told her the truth."

"You think that's the truth?"

"Well… It is."

"That's just plain mean, Mimi, yah?"

"I wasn't trying to be…"

"Well you were. You should apologize, yah?"

"But I haven't done anything wrong!"

"You have too! She looks like she's about to cry, yah?"

"Not my fault." Miami sat defensively, and stared into the fire, fiddling with her long hair. Honolulu shook her head, and leaned back onto the rocky ground. Little Rock stood up after a while, and wandered off by herself, sitting on a rock ledge and kicking her feet. She looked at the floor of the spreading Badlands, and a single tear ran down her cheek, staining the freckles with a glimmering line. Most everyone had wandered off by themselves or in small groups at this point, but Nashville had been within earshot of the whole conversation. He looked at Little Rock pityingly, and leaned on his guitar.

Soon, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see Seattle looking at him. "You know… she's broken on the inside. And crying on the outside. Her ears are ringing with those abusive words." He stepped forward, and sighed, nodding towards Little Rock, as Nashville just watched him. "None of those girls are going to care." He motioned towards Miami and her two friends, "Not one of them will go to make amends. For some reason, the only ones trusted with opinions are the untrustworthy. And they have no idea the dreams that they crush, or the fact that they get people to believe them. And how could you hear what those girls said to her, and leave her sitting there? How is anyone else going to give her the comfort she needs; your comfort?" He turned to Nashville with a serious look on his face. "She's sitting in glass box right now, with an amazing view." He pointed out to the Badlands spreading beautifully before them. "But the only thing she sees is her confused reflection looking back at her, doll paint removed. Because now it's HER dreams crushed, and HER who's believing the untrustworthy. And how could YOU know this, and still stand here staring at her? Do you think she's going to heal herself? She needs you, Nash! She needs someone to tell her that Miami is wrong! And it's not going to matter coming from anyone but you." Nashville blinked at him, and nodded very slightly. "And if you don't get over there soon, she'll think you don't care. Do you want that?" Nashville shook his head, and laid down his guitar, walking over to Little Rock. Seattle watched them, his own memories of being made fun of by the bigger cities flooding back, and a small tear came to his eye, which he wiped away, wandering a little farther from everyone else. "I'm broken on the inside… still crying on the outside. And how could they know all this, and leave me alone…" He sank his knees, folding his arms across his lap, his head hung. "All alone…" He felt a hand lay gently on his shoulder. "You aren't alone, dude…" He looked up, and saw Los Angeles standing above him, smiling down at him. Seattle smiled slightly back up, wiping another tear away. LA sat down beside him, and put an arm around his shoulders. "'Cuz how could I hear all those things people have said to you and just leave you sitting here?" Seattle gave another small smile, and put his head on LA's shoulder. "Thanks…" LA chuckled, and tussled the slightly smaller boy's hair. "Anytime, dude. We're friends. We look out for each other."

Nashville sat beside Little Rock silently, and stared out at the Badlands for a while. Every once and a while, he could hear her sniffle. Eventually, he looked up at her and said, "Li'l… none of those things they said are true, ya know." Little Rock looked up at him, and frowned. He put his hand on hers. "Ya really are pretty." Little Rock blushed slightly, and looked down at her lap again. "Yer jes' sayin' that…" Nashville shook his head. "Nope. I'm serious." She blinked, and continued blushing a bit. He patted her hand. "Git some sleep… ya don' need them." He smiled at her, and stood up, walking back towards the fire.

Houston wandered over and sat beside Little Rock. "I know Nash may be a bit oblivious, but I ain't. Ya like him. A lot." She blushed profusely, and looked up at him. "Is it… that obvious?" He nodded, and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's a natural thing. Doncha worry." She looked down at the Badlands again. "I think of him when I wake up every mornin'… I wanna smile with him, and see his eyes up close. I… I wanna kiss him, and watch his face… take walks with him, and be encased in his warm arms… My life without him feels so… cold. I jes' wanna hug him. I love the way he talks, an' he thinks, and what he sees and writes songs about that nobody else sees. So here I am dreaming of him… wishin' he'd write a song about me. I guess I jes' want him. I really want him. But… he's so far away. I wish he would look at me, and be blind to my faults. I really want him… ta feel him move, ta fall into his arms, ta hold his hand, to wake up in a dream, listenin' to him singin', to know what he's thinkin', and know what he means. I will count down every minute until I don' hafta say, 'I want him.' And then I'll feel him move, fall into his arms, hold his hand, wake up in his dream, listen to him singin', know what he's thinkin', and know what he means. I… I jes' want him." Houston listened silently to her talk, and when she was finished, she blushed even more, staring at the Badlands, blinking. "But… I ain't pretty enough for him." Houston shook his head, and looked at her oddly. "Somethin' 'bout ya makes me think of a bullet-proof vest, but yer smile makes ya look more fragile than the rest…" He scooted a little closer. "How many times will we hafta do this before ya believe me? It never happens like the big screen. Nobody's quite as beautiful as they think they should be. Not nearly. It's a real tragic tale, how yer life's gone so far without him. Each breath ya breathe brings in a lie. And ya always are afraid if yer hair is as good as everyone else's. Until ya don't know who ya are no more. It never happens like the big screen, no. No one's quite as beautiful as they think they should be, no. But the truth is- ya ARE pretty. Real pretty. So whatcha afraid of? Rejection? It won't put ya anywhere ya ain't now. Ya ARE pretty, though, so what's the harm? Might as well jes' ask him." She looked at him, a little nervous. "Ya mean… Nash?"

"O' course."

"Oh… okay."

"Doesn't hafta be now. Sleep on it."

"Yeah… kay." She kicked her feet once more, and looked down again. Houston stood up, wandering to a rock, where he lay down to sleep.

Dallas sat alone, legs and arms crossed, glaring at the pretty scene before her. She was lost in thought, but the thoughts were interrupted by New York's voice. "A little tan noise. A little tan desert. A little devoid of color and feeling. It's all valuable, though. Riddled with gold. But… it's collapsing under the weight of America." He sat down beside her, watching the same scenery as her. "You know… I've got a lot of empty thoughts, just kind of weighing me down." He sighed before continuing, "Headfirst into this great American curse: 'It can't get much better! It could be worse.' Our enemies walk among us. Who can you trust? But at the end of the day… it's just another paranoia thing. Tons of those empty thoughts… still weighing me down. A big tan noise… a big tan desert… a lot devoid of color and feeling. But…" He turned to her, and smiled, "But you are color, and you make me feel better. And after all of this, those thoughts are just a shadow. I just wonder… who am I? I was raised to be a hero, born to be a bad guy. But you are MY color, you make me feel so much better… and you make those thoughts into a tiny little shadow. I've been idling uphill all my life, losing momentum… and I wondered if it was completely pointless since the beginning. I just needed a bit of color to make me feel better. And you are that color… I'm not asking you to accept anything I'd give you. But, I'm offering anyway. Just… food for thought. And not empty thought either." He stood up and turned, taking the rose from his jacket, and placing it in her lap. "Sleep well, Dal." He wandered off, and found a place to lie down. Dallas glared silently after him, and then blinked when he was gone, and laid down, going to sleep.

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><p>HAHAHAHA! I have defied the lack of wifi at my current camp ground! My aunt and uncle are nice. Thank them for letting me upload on their computer! Anyway, please review, and I hope you enjoyed the random relationship building. I was randomly inspired by a few beautiful songs, and this came out of it. Now one of them is stuck in my head... anywho, review, you can still request, and please enjoy the next chapter! I'm not sure yet what it will contain. Probably more fighting, on a larger scale, and more relationship building. Have an absolutely stupendous day!<p> 


	7. The Russian Side

Chapter 7

Moscow crept back to the Russian airplane, and collapsed beside it, breathing heavily. The plane opened, and a boy in a Russian Navy uniform, an angled, folded hat, jumped out of the pilot's cockpit. He ran out to her, and kneeled beside her. "Moskva!" He took out a first aid kit, and he began to wipe her face, and clean up the bucket wound. "What happened?"

Moscow blinked. "I'm… I'm… okay… Peter… really… it's just a scratch…" St. Petersburg frowned at her. "No it's not. You lost. And now you're hurt. I'm going to help you." Moscow nodded, closing her eyes as her friend's skilled hands began to help her. "You're lucky, Moskva. That could have killed you." She opened her eyes again, and smiled slightly at him. "Is it bad?" Peter laughed. "Not so bad I can't fix it. You'll be fixed up in no time." She smiled a little broader at him. "Thanks, Peter." St. Petersburg sat her up after a while, and leaned her against a rock. He sat beside her. "It's really not too bad. Luckily not too deep either. That must have been pretty rough." She looked over at him, bandage now across one side of her head. "It was… thanks for helping out." St. Petersburg laughed and put a hand on her shoulder. "I wouldn't leave you like that. That would just be wrong." She smiled at him, and thanked him once more, and he stood, going towards the plane. "Where are you going?" He chuckled slightly, "To get our bedrolls of course." Moscow chuckled slightly, and looked back down at the rocky ground, waiting for the bedrolls. St. Petersburg came back out with a frown on his face. "There's only one in this plane… you can have it." He laid it down beside her, and she smiled at him. "Thanks, Peter." She put her hands in her lap, looking a bit awkward, then she kissed his cheek. They both blushed, and she laid down on the bedroll. "Thanks again… and goodnight, Peter." Peter laid down just a few feet away. "You're welcome… and… goodnight…"

In the morning, Moscow awoke to the smell that I hope everyone reading this has smelled at some point in their lives. Eggs and bacon, cooked to perfection, lying steaming beside Moscow's face. She sat up groggily. "Peter… you made all this for me?" St. Petersburg nodded, grinned, and put a glass of ice water beside her. "Free from Wall. I snitched it from his bucket last night." Moscow chuckled, sitting up and drinking the refreshing water as the hot sun rose. She then realized that her closest friend was holding his Russian Federation Naval Corps standard issue pistol, and his ballistic knife. "You're not going out to fight, are you?" He smiled at her. "Don't worry, Mosk. I'll come back alive. Just checking them all out. That's all." She looked at him skeptically, but nodded, eating a piece of bacon. "Just be careful… okay?" She stood up slowly, using the rock beside her as a support. She dragged her feet over to him. "And… Peter… before you go…" He turned to her, "Da?"

"We've known each other a long time…"

"Da… and?"

"And… I suppose… when you know someone a long time… you start to get attached to them…"

"Da…"

"And… well…" She cut off, not being able to bring herself to say it. She kissed his cheek again, and hugged him. "Come back safe." He hugged her back, and walked off, a mild blush on his cheeks. She watched him leave with a slight frown. _Why can't I tell him? Oh, I'm such a coward…_

Meanwhile, back in Russia's house, America was no longer tied to a bed. He was now tied only by his ankles to a chair. He would have untied the ties, but they were titanium chains, which posed a slight problem for him. He looked around, and when Russia came back into the room, he bared his teeth at him. Russia frowned, sitting in the chair closest to Alfred. "Don't bear your teeth at me, please, Alfred. Your lips could be doing other things…" He smirked and leaned towards America. America grabbed Russia's shoulders, and pushed him back slightly. "No! No they couldn't." Russia frowned. "Just a little kiss, da?"

"NO!" Russia frowned more, and made fairly big eyes at his tied up friend.

"If you do, I will not bother you all day. And I will have my pretty sisters make you food and wait on you, da?"

"Tempting… but I'd have to kiss you. No."

"I'll leave you alone unless you ask me to come back. All of tomorrow, too, da?"

"No way. You'll just come in with a gag on the day after tomorrow."

"I will not… I do not want to hurt you."

"Then why'd you bring me here?"

"I told you, I was lonely, da?"

"Get un-lonely with Belarus. She wants to be all over you anyway."

"But I don't want her all over me."

"How about the Baltics? You could always pick on them."

"But they are busy with festivals and such right now, da?"

"What about Ukraine? She's got big boobs, and you could do whatever the hell you wanted with her."

"Nyet, Alfred, I don't want to."

"Why do you have to pester me?"

"Because I want YOU to make me 'un-lonely', as you say."

"Fine… but… it's not because I like you or anything." He leaned forward very slowly, closing his eyes tightly, and let his arms sink back down. He felt a pair of warm lips against his own, and felt a jolt run through him. He couldn't stop himself before he relaxed, his arms reaching around Russia's back, pulling him slightly closer. Russia grinned into the kiss, holding the man tightly to him, and eventually slipping his tongue into his mouth. America squirmed for a moment, but then relaxed again, holding onto Russia with no shortage of strength now, but every bit of strength was matched by Russia. Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and the familiar voice of Lithuania muttered through. "Mr. Russia? Dinner's ready." Russia broke the kiss with America, who was now blushing a bit, and staring oddly at Russia, who went out the door, smiling back at him. "I will bring you something nice to eat, da?" America nodded slowly, but said nothing, simply going over the last scene over and over in his head.

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><p>Okay, so, I totally misjudged what would be in this chapter. Sorry. But, I DID put St. Petersburg in there, and there will be a battle next chapter. How do you all like the RussiAmerica development? Is happy, da? *Baltics nod, quivering* Okay, so, please review, and have an absolutely SPLENDID day.<p> 


	8. Pissy Pudgy Punches Peter

Chapter 8

Washington D.C. sat alone, the only one awake this early, and kept vigilant guard on the quiet Badlands. He heard a tapping of shoes on rock, and spun, gavel in hand. It was New York, who raised his hands slightly with a tired expression, and yawned. "It's just me, D.C…" D.C. nodded and turned back around, looking out over the Badlands. He heard New York sit behind him, and they remained in silence for a long while. Then there was a dull thump, and Washington D.C. whipped around again. New York was lying unconscious on the ground, and a boy in a Russian navy uniform and a folded hat was standing before him, pistol and ballistic knife in hand. He took a look at D.C., and immediately took in his immediate opponent. He was a little bit pudgy, not incredibly so though, had massive glasses, hair that looked like it was normally well-combed, but had been neglected today, a tidy, though currently dusty, suit, and a judge's gavel. St. Petersburg inwardly chuckled, and raised the gun, pointing it at D.C. "Drop the gavel, Pudgy." D.C.'s eyes narrowed, and he gripped the gavel tighter, his face beginning to flush. "You shouldn't call names. Some people get offended." St. Petersburg laughed out loud now, "Aww, is Pudgy mad?" He said this in a mocking voice, and D.C. flushed more still. He remembered the last time someone called him that name, in the War of 1812. "If you call me that one more time, I will beat you black and blue…" He growled at the Russian boy in front of him. "Have I struck one of Pudgy's pudgy nerves?" He smirked slightly, intending to use his adversary's frustration to his advantage, but before he could blink after the sentence was over, he found himself toppled over, a gavel pounded into his nose with a loud crack and some spurting blood. New York awoke again at the loud crack, and it attracted the attention of most of the other American cities. They groggily wandered their way over, weapons out and ready though, to find D.C. cracking his gavel on a Russian boy, shouting profanities that most people were not aware that D.C. was capable of saying, and very much turning the boy black and blue. They prepared to jump in to either help beat the Russian, or pull D.C. off of him before he died, but New York stopped them. "Don't go in there… you'll just get hurt. I haven't seen D.C. this mad since… well, the War of 1812…" Everyone looked at each other; not all of them were born by that point. While the beat red D.C. continued beating the living daylights out of the much stronger Russian, New York pushed everyone a safe distance away, turning towards D.C. "Not since England called him 'Pudgy', beat him half to death and shoved him into a campfire… In return, he cracked three of England's ribs, knocked out many of his teeth, and had him out cold for a week and a half. After recovering from the campfire of course." Everyone looked at each other, then back at Washington D.C., who had angry tears streaking his cheeks, and he was shaking the quite unconscious St. Petersburg violently. He tossed him to the ground, stood up, and kicked him in the side of the head three of four times, then turned, fuming, and looked at the other cities. "What the hell are you looking at?" Everyone looked away, and began to wander off, all staying nearby though.

Little Rock watched D.C. as he talked to himself, fuming quietly. She picked up a few mutterings about 'that bastard England', or 'Arthur that ass hole', but most often she heard something about some female having betrayed him. She looked around for someone to explain, and figured it was safe to ask New York, since it was certainly not safe to ask D.C. himself, and she was now curious. So she walked over to New York, who was drinking some ice water he had gotten from Wall, and tapped him on the shoulder. "N'yawk?" He turned to her. "Hm?"

"D.C.'s rantin' about some girl who done betrayed him… who's he talkin' 'bout?"

"I suspect he's talking about New Orleans."

"Why?"

"Back in the day, when the only people in this group who were even around were me, Philly, New Orleans, and D.C., D.C. and New Orleans were… involved."

"Like whaddya mean?"

"Romantically involved. They were together. When the War of 1812 came, she stuck up for him and really did a number on England in 1815. When D.C. was building up as a younger kid, he had to build in a swamp. She came and visited occasionally. Back then, he was a real tough guy. Really strong and whatnot. The two of them were really close; they got along fantastically. When the Civil War came, she came to visit him one last time, and had to explain that her boss told her she could never see him again, because she was a Confederate and he was a Union Federal. The last thing she said to him was 'Sorry…', and they haven't spoken since."

"That's terrible…"

"That's what we all thought, but there's not much we can do about it."

"I s'pose you're right…"

"Sadly, yes. But who knows; maybe they'll be friends again someday."

"I hope so…"

Meanwhile, Wall sat by himself with his bucket of ice, looking at it absentmindedly, a slightly sad look on his face. Detroit came and sat beside him. "Can I have some of that water?" He made a scary Detroit grin at Wall, who took a cup and the bucket, and filled it, handing it to Detroit. He then looked up at the black-coated boy beside him. "Why do all the bigger cities hate me?" Detroit looked at him with a slightly confused look, then answered, a slightly less scary expression on his face. "They just think you're annoying, that's all. They don't hate you." Wall was silent for a moment, "And why don't you?"

"How would you know if I thought you were annoying?" He made a scarier face again.

"You would have left or grabbed my head if you thought I was."

"I suppose you're right," his face softened, "and I guess it's just the ice water."

They both laughed a little bit, and Detroit looked around a bit. "But seriously, kid, if you really wanna know, I don't even know. But, I like you, kid. You ain't so bad." He patted the smaller boy's leg, and stood up, tipping his baseball cap and wandering off, cup of water in hand.

After that event had wrapped up, Little Rock and New York had escaped their momentary stupor. Little Rock looked up at New York for a little, and turned around, making a realization. New York looked after her. "Where are you going?" She didn't look back, just walked towards Nashville. "I have to do somethin' I been needin' to do for a long time." She approached Nashville, and took his arm. "Hey, Nash?"

"Yah?"

"I got a question I need ta ask ya…"

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><p>I barely scraped this chapter in... I just got home, and I'm about to leave for San Francisco (where I will get no more chapters done) in seven hours. I hope you enjoyed it, and the next chapter should be up Saturday or Sundayish. Also, I'd like to know if you guys want an anecdote chapter to the War of 1812, or just skipping straight over that to the next chronological chapter. I'm game either way. Take your pick, pleeeaaaase! And have an absolutely marvelous day.<p> 


	9. Kiss Scene A Tsundere and 3 Broken Ribs

Chapter 9

"Hey, Nash?"

"Yah?"

"I got a question I need ta ask ya…"

"What'd that be?"

Little Rock froze, staring up at Nashville's face, her heart pounding itself as hard as it could against her chest, so hard that she was sure he could hear it and would guess the question before she asked it. "Do… do you… like me?"

"Well, 'course, I like ya jes' fine."

"That's not what I mean…" She swallowed, and stepped closer to him, moving her hand from his arm to his shoulder, and then to the back of his head, pulling him down to her, kissing him briefly and jamming her eyes shut, and breaking it quickly with a blush, and looking away. "I mean… like that…" She dropped her arms to her sides, staring at the ground, and closed her eyes, expecting the imminent, 'no'. What she got instead was a pair of firm, strong arms wrapped around her, and herself pressed against a warm body. "Yah… I do." She felt a pair of soft lips on her forehead, and she looked up, blinking at Nashville once or twice. "Ya… ya do?" He nodded and smiled at her, and she slowly began to grin. She then stood on her tiptoes, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him like she'd always wanted to; leaning into him, holding him so he couldn't get away, eyes closed, her mouth open very slightly, her lips pressed forcefully against his. He took the bait of her lips being slightly opened, and soon both of their mouths were fully open, their tongues dancing around a bit. She tried not to react loudly at her dream come true, instead just pressing against him more and more. While this happened, Miami squealed, and clicked off her camera at a finger-cramping speed. New York chuckled a bit, leaning back and giving a quiet, sincere applause, like one does at a play when a particularly good scene has ended. Houston grinned, leaning slightly on his rifle, and Dallas gave a facial expression that said, 'I don't give a damn.' Seattle smiled and leaned against the rock he was sitting by, taking a sip of a mysteriously acquired cup of coffee. No one else seemed to notice, except possibly Detroit, but you could never tell, since his face was still in that scary grin.

New York took the opportunity to create a situation to his own benefit, and crept up behind Dallas. "You look a little jealous of Little Rock there, Dal." Dallas wheeled and glared, "Am not."

"You seem to be."

"Naw I don't."

"You really do. You were beginning to like him."

Dallas blushed brightly, "Was not!"

"Hmmm… then why are you reacting so badly to this conversation?"

She stammered, huffing and puffing, "I… I'm just… insulted, that's all."

New York smirked. "Mhm."

She glared at him, and stepped up to him. "Anyways, why do YOU care?"

New York looked at her funnily, "I didn't hand you a rose and a speech because I thought you looked lonely."

She blushed and glared more, "I-I'm not lonely! I-I don't want you!"

New York shrugged, smirking very slightly. "So you wouldn't mind at all if I just up and left now?"

"N-not in the least!"

"Kay." He began to walk off, leaving Dallas fuming behind him, attempting to hide the fact that she was upset that he left. He kept on walking, until he had reached the place he began. He figured it was enough for today.

Meanwhile, D.C. sat quietly, remembering the day he returned England's favor, with a little help from boss…

It was a somewhat rainy day. The clouds were beginning to roll back from their sentinel watches in the sky, meandering aimlessly, just getting away from where they had begun. A boy in a blue tailed militia coat, large spectacles, tan pants and boots they were tucked into stood, watching the British troops march forward. He located his target, near the back, on a horse, holding a sabre. The boy took off his glasses and wiped them on his coat, then checked again. Definitely him. He laid down in the grass, and waited for the troops to mostly pass, and took a shot, knocking the horse out from under the target. Thunder clapped as the rains began to pour again, and the British troops went into chaos, militiamen jumping from behind walls, fences, trees, bushes, and grass, and quickly routing the British troops. He ignored the other troops, occasionally taking a good slash with his own sabre if they came too close, but mostly just waded through to the man he was after. When he reached him, he took a swing with the sword, and it was blocked with a clang, as the two well-trained blades met. "I thought I got rid of you, Pudgy." The Englishman frowned at the boy, and slid their swords away, taking his own try, which was also easily parried. "Funny thing about capitals; we're harder to kill." The man looked disgusted, and the two began interchanging blows at a more consistent rate. After a long series of twirls, clashes, clangs, parries, blocks, deflections, dodges, swings, and slashes, the sabre in the hand of the American boy flipped away, landing with a **plop** in the mud. It was quickly trampled below the feet of many soldiers in the midst of combat or retreat, and another thunder clap resounded. The boy looked up at the Englishman, who pointed the sword to his throat. "I must say, I must give it to you that you came and fought like a man, though not a smart man. You should have shot me while you had the chance, you bloody yank." He raised the sabre, and was about to bring it down in a merciless cut, when it too went skidding away with a loud clang. "Not to MY capital, you tea drinking ass!" On a white, muddy horse sat another man in a similar outfit to the boy's, with somewhat well-kempt hair, a sword in his hand a rifle in his other. The Englishman, who had spun around, soon found a boot in his back, as he crashed forward into the mud, the boy grabbing him by his hair and lifting his head, stepping on his back forcefully. He leaned down and muttered spitefully in the Englishman's ear, "How does it feel to be on the other end of the scale?" He spun the Englishman over, punching him squarely in the face, which sent a couple teeth into the mud to be lost forever, and he elbowed his ribs, and one cracked, definitely. He lifted the Englishman to his feet, and punched him in the chest with as much force as he could, which resulted in another crack, and a cough of blood from the man who had been punched. The boy landed a kick to crack one final rib, which sent the Englishman crashing backwards with a cough of more blood, and the Englishman then found the butt of his own gun rammed against his head. The boy tossed the gun down, and looked up at the man on the white horse. "Do you think he deserved all of that…?" The man on the horse smiled slightly, but shook his head, sending a drop or two of water away. "I've never seen you that mad before… he must have deserved something like that." Another thunderclap resounded as the battle died down, the boy hopping onto the man's horse behind him. "Now let's go find you your sabre and rifle. We can't be having you lose those so close to the end of the war."

D.C. was pulled from his memory by a real clap of thunder, and a slap of cold rain against his glasses, which splattered slightly onto his forehead. He stood up, and wandered back to the Americans' camp, the Russian having crawled away to his hidey hole for the night.

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><p>Since I got no answer, I put the War of 1812 and the next chronological chapter all in one. Don't you all love me so much? (^-^) Anyway, have an absolutely stupendous day, please review, and the next chapter will get one of two things. Bruise-y, or citrus-y. Not sure which yet. You can review and say which one you'd like, otherwise it may just be up to the flip of a coin. But yes, stupendous day, review, blah blah blah. B-bye!<p> 


	10. I Won't Say I'm In Love

Chapter 10

Moscow sat quietly, waiting for the return of St. Petersburg as the thunder rolled and the rain fell. She looked around, concerned for his safety. She reached down and grabbed her knife, sliding it into her coat, and slunk into the town, avoiding the watchful eyes of any American cities. She crept in a wide circle, until she came to a small concave shape in the side of the tall, rocky walls of the Badlands, where she thought she saw some movement. She climbed the wall, following a small trail of blood she discovered, and came to the entrance to what had appeared to be a small hole, but was really the opening to a somewhat large cavern. She crawled into it, using the flashes of lightning to see the trail of blood. "Peter?" She called out, straining her eyes as she crawled through the darkness. There was a moan up ahead. She sped up in her crawling, zipping as fast as she could on hands and knees to reach her friend. She stopped when she collapsed into the familiar lap of a friend. She looked up, to see St. Petersburg with a bandaged nose, and bruises all over. "Peter… are you okay?"

"I'll be fine in the morning, Moskva…"

"No you won't… your nose is broken."

"Da… it is. But that's okay. We should get back home and tell boss about them first thing in the morning."

"Da. We should. And get you some medical attention."

"… I suppose."

"Do not suppose. I know."

"Fine…"

She hugged him gently, and put her head on his chest. "I don't want you to die…"

"I won't die."

"But still… I was worried you did. And anyways... I…"

"Da?"

"Nevermind… I'll tell you later. As long as you get better."

"Okay. I promise I will."

"Spaseeba." They closed their eyes, and drifted to sleep, cuddling together in the cold of the thunderstorm.

Meanwhile, a small, run-down pickup truck came noisily through the streets of the small town of Wall. In the front of it was a boy with a button-up shirt, jeans, work boots and a pair of stylish glasses. He stopped at the American camp, and stepped out of the truck. Wall jumped up from beside the dying fire and ran over to him. "Fargo! You came!" He wrapped his arms around the older boy, who grinned and hugged him back.

"Evenin', Wall. Let me go for a moment so I can get my stuff, will ya?" Wall released him, and Fargo turned around, grabbing a black bag from the passenger's seat. "Alright, who's injured?"

Wall pointed to New York. "He's been shot in the shoulder." Fargo walked over to the boy in the suit jacket, who looked at him incredulously.

"You stick your hands in my shoulder, I stick my gun up your ass." He reached into his jacket, and began to pull the gun out.

"Calm down, hot shot. I'm just going to check on it." Fargo reached into his bag, and he seemed to immediately take on the premise of a doctor, as he pulled out a few tools. "This may hurt a bit. As far as I know, that bullet's still in there." New York winced as Fargo retrieved the bullet from his shoulder, tossing it aside. "That was a good shot. Lucky for you, you aren't going to die." Fargo chuckled at himself, and continued on the shoulder for a while, eventually bandaging it up. He smiled down at the well-wrapped New York. "All fixed."

New York glared at him angrily. "I can't move my arm. And this is my gun arm." Fargo smiled. "It'll heal. And then you can go and be a tax evasive mobster again." New York fumed, and pointed with his left arm to Chicago. "HE was the tax evasive mobster!" Fargo shrugged. "Whatever. You're still a criminal." New York pouted, and leaned back against the rock, as Fargo turned towards D.C. "So, Cap, sorry about bein' so late. A lady went into labor in front of my doorstep, and then some people with low intelligence tried to rob my bank, turned out they were a whole gang, and I had a multi-day expedition to hunt 'em all down by myself. But I'm here now."

D.C. smiled, and stepped towards Fargo. "And not a moment too soon. I have a plan for getting boss back." Fargo raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" D.C. pulled him aside, and they began to speak together a bit. Fargo smiled. "Well, you know I was the best pilot in the—" D.C. interrupted him with a smile. "Yes. I know. I was in all the wars you were in, Fargo. I know just how incredible you were." Everyone looked at each other nervously, wondering just what D.C. was planning to get boss back.

Especially curious was New Orleans, who was drying out her beret by the fire. She gave no hint, though, that she was curious, to anyone. Miami looked over at her. "I wonder what Cap's planning." New Orleans nodded. "Yeah… me too." Miami looked at her oddly, then smiled slightly. "You miss him, don't you." New Orleans looked at her with an annoyed look on her face. "I didn't want to leave him, Mi. My boss wanted me to." Miami hugged her to herself. "Then you've gotta tell him that, girl!" New Orleans frowned, leaning with the hug. "But… I don't think he wants to hear it anymore."

At a slightly later, but not too far off, time, Russia opened the door to his untied America. America sat on the bed, cleaning his glasses. "I'm going to run away if you leave me untied, Ivan." Russia grinned and sat beside him, putting an arm around the American. "Nyet, you're not. Because you have nowhere to go, da?" Alfred thought for a moment. "I'm going to kill you then." He felt a pair of Russian lips on his cheek, and he recoiled very slightly. "Nyet, you aren't going to do that either." America frowned. "Why?" It was Russia's turn to think for a moment. "Because… you like me too much." America wanted to shake his head and tell him he didn't… but he couldn't bring himself to. While he was trying, his mouth slightly open, he found himself with his lips being pressed against another pair of lips, and two large, violet eyes gazing happily into his. He, to his own surprise, immediately melted and reached out, pulling Russia down to him, and flipping them slightly, so that he was sitting on the Russian man's lap. He let himself be carried away for a while, until he heard the door creak open, and the voice of a small Baltic state came through. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Russia! I should have knocked!" America flew off of Russia, and was on the other side of the bed immediately. Russia frowned deeply at Latvia. "Da. You should have. Well, what is it?" Latvia slipped out the door. "Ms. Belarus broke another doorknob…" Russia sighed, and stood up, and as he walked out the door, turned back to America. "Don't go anywhere. I will come back and we can spend some more time together, da?" America blinked at the now closed door, and sat on the bed. _What the hell is happening to me…? I'm not in love with Russia… I'm not… in love… with… Russia…_

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><p>Okay! Finally! I'm soooooooooooooo sorry I didn't upload earlier! I will give you a cyberglomp of apology. *Gives cyberglomp of apology* There. Now... I hope you enjoyed it. I forgot what I was going to do with this chapter except introduce Fargo... so it just kind of evolved... so yeah! I hope you enjoyed it! And please review, and have an amazing day! Guten nacht!<p> 


	11. NO SWEARING, DAMMIT

Seventeen hours, two flying-ace friends recruited, and one plane ride after the end of Chapter 10...

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 11<span>

"Hostile tango on our six! Hold onto your asses, kiddies, it's going to be a bumpy ride!" As he shouted this, Fargo spun the jet fighter in a barrel roll, barely avoiding a missile fired at him.

"That was too close." New York gulped, looking out the window and massaging his recently bandaged shoulder. He looked over at D.C. "Cap… was it really a good idea to let Fargo bring in his 'best crew'?" Before D.C. could answer, the plane was shooting upwards using only the propulsions on its back end and sides, quickly losing speed. "HOLY SH—" Before New York could finish his shout, a hand clasped over his mouth, and he looked over to see Los Angeles frowning. "Keep it clean, dude. We got a kid in here." Wall appeared too gripped in fear to have noticed New York's shout, and New York looked at LA, who sat casually back in his seat. "How the hell are you just sitting here like on an ordinary day?" LA shrugged, "It is a normal day. Aside from the fact that we're being chased in Russian airspace by a kid in a navy uniform and an assassin with a grudge, of course." New York gaped at him, and the voice of one of the two newcomers that Fargo requested, Richmond, could be heard. "Fargo… those are heat-seekers… if they hit us, we're sh—"

"Dead meat, I know. And no swearing. Unless you're saying an epic one-liner that you put at the beginning of chapters of stories that skipped some time and you want to attract interest."

"So, what are we going to do about the heat-seekers?" Richmond, who was copiloting, asked nervously.

"Well, my briefcase-wielding friend, we're going to go cold." Without further ado, all engines stopped, and the plane began to plummet downward, towards the snow of Siberia below. New York looked over at LA, and LA looked back at New York, both pressed back into their chairs. "Can I say it NOW?" New York asked with a look of terror on his face. "Dude… I'll say it with you." They both took a deep breath, and shouted, at the top of their lungs, "HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII—"

As if on cue, Fargo shouted from the front, "NO SWEARING!"

D.C. looked over at New York from his seat, and adjusted his glasses. "I'm thinking that you're right… this was probably a bad idea…" There was an explosion above the plane as the heat-seekers sought out each other and the fragments drifted harmlessly to the ground. The engines were immediately flipped back on, and the jet took off in a U shape, so it was climbing again, though not as steeply as before.

Fargo looked over to the third seat in the enlarged cockpit, at the young man in the purple button-up, baseball cap, black jeans and sneakers, who had a crab sitting on his head. "Baltimore, let 'em have it." Baltimore grinned, and took the crab off of his head, putting it down beside him. "My pleasure." Fargo spun the jet in a 180 degree turn, and Baltimore pumped lead out of the machine guns on the front half of the plane at the Russian fighter before them. The young man in the middle seat, who wore a pinstripe grey suit, a black shirt, white tie, and black pants, and had a black briefcase beside his chair reached forward to copilot, and found a crab in his way. "Baltimore! Control your damned crab!"

Fargo glared. "No swearing! Can't you listen?"

Baltimore sounded offended from his seat. "Come on, Rich, it ain't HIS fault your buttons are so easy to push. The ones on the plane's control board, not your emotional ones…" They jetted by the Russian plane, diving below a string of machine gun return fire. As Fargo spun in a triple barrel roll to avoid more missiles, Baltimore yelled back at the plane that obviously couldn't hear them. "HA! You Russians have TERRIBLE aim!"

Fargo frowned. "Don't test your luck, Baltimore." He shooed the crab away from his controls. "And Rich is right. Control your crab."

"He's a free American citizen!"

Richmond flipped a button to switch engines as Fargo turned to give it another shot against the Russian plane. "He's a crab." He flipped another switch to turn the engine back on.

Baltimore gave another round of fire at the Russians, damaging their wing, while still speaking to the others. "So are you! A… metaphorical crab… Your abusive words pinch his soul with the angry pincers of metaphorical crabs." He pinched at the air a few times to further demonstrate his point.

Richmond tilted his head a bit, accelerating some of the engines to help Fargo as he made another inhumanly good maneuver around some Russian missiles. "What the hell…?"

Fargo did another barrel roll as some more missiles came by. "NO. SWEARING. Does it never end? You'll taint our grandkids, you swear so much."

Baltimore laughed, taking aim and more fire. "You didn't go to public school, did you, Fargo?"

Fargo did a flip backwards to throw some heat-seekers off target. "Actually, in my city, we can control our mouths."

The other two were silent for a little while, not sure what to say. Richmond finally spoke up. "You didn't control your mouth back in Nam…"

Fargo quickly responded, "No kids." He did another barrel roll, and Baltimore fired off some more rounds. Fargo yelped as the crab pinched him in the foot, and the plane went careening in a spin to the left. Fargo repositioned and straightened the plane, gently pushing the crab with his foot. "Baltimore, if you don't control that crab, I will eat it."

Baltimore looked stricken. "NO! DON'T EAT MY CRAB!"

Fargo shook his head, and they watched as the Russian plane landed. Richmond whooped. "We've got 'em on the run! Let's get over to those coordinates where boss is, free the guy, and high-tail our asses out of here."

Fargo kicked him from a seat away. "No more swearing, or I SWEAR I will bake you in a pizza."

Baltimore looked down at the ground for a while. "FARGO! THAT ST. PETERSBURG KID IS PULLING OUT A SERVICE-TO-AIR!"

Fargo sighed, and grabbed the radio to the back of the jet. "Hold onto something. This is going to be a rough landing." As he said this, there was a whistling sound, and an explosion as the plane soared down towards the snow.

New York gripped the seat. "Crashes are rough! Landings are not!"

Fargo spoke one last thing into the speaker. "Then it's a CRASH landing."

Before New York could retort once more—impact.

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><p>America looked out the window, watching the flames erupt from a crashed fighter jet, that bore his flag, no less, and hoped it wasn't who he thought, he knew, it was. He sniffled in once, and even twice, looking somewhat dejected, until Russia came in. He put his stoic face back on, and turned away from the window. Russia caught the look in his eye though, and walked over to hug him. "I'm sure they're alright, Alfred." America blinked. Russia had never called him 'Alfred'. America slowly raised his arms around the larger man, finding himself answering like a child. "You promise…?"<p>

"Of course. They are cities, da? And when they come to get you, you can go home, if you want."

America blinked again. What was with the sudden change, and the sad look in Russia's face? For some strange reason, he found he hated seeing it when the man was sad. He wanted to do something to make him happy again. But he couldn't figure out what. So he just broke the hug and looked up at him. "Russia?" The sound of his country name seemed to make him a little bit sadder, but he masked it very well. "Russia, why the sudden change of heart?"

Russia turned around, looking at the ground, avoiding showing his face to America. "Because I can't change yours."

"What?"

"I can't change yours. So you can go, da?"

"You can't change my what?"

"Your heart, Alfred…" He turned back to America, who felt a small flutter at the use of his human name as it rolled from the Russian's lips in his charming, almost alluring accent. "I can't change your heart, so I'm giving it back. No refund required, da?" He swallowed back something, almost tears, but not quite formed.

America stepped closer, putting a hand on the other man's shoulder. "I don't understand…"

Russia brushed the hand away gently. "Please stop, Alfred… Stop making me hope." He turned on his heel, and began to walk towards the door.

America stared for a little bit, then quietly asked, already knowing the answer, "Hope for what?"

The Russian stopped in the doorway, and looked down at the floor beside him, watching Al from the corner of his eye. "I know that you don't love me, America." Something about the way he said 'America' instead of 'Alfred' cut the addressed man deep. Russia shut the door very quietly, and his footsteps could be heard down the hall, until they reached another room.

"Mr. Russia? What's wrong?" Latvia's voice came from the kitchen.

"Vodka. Get me vodka." There was a scuttling of feet, and the sound of a small Baltic leaving a room. America stared at the door, and something clicked in his head suddenly. _I… I AM in love with Russia… But he doesn't know that. I suppose… it's about time I was a hero._ He kicked the door open, shattering the small padlock that had been placed on it, and ran down the hallway, opening the door to the kitchen. "Russia… Ivan, wait! I want to tell you something!"

Russia looked up from his vodka. "Leave me alone…"

America took the vodka and moved it far enough away, and practically tackled Russia, landing a kiss on his lips. "I DO love you, Ivan… I do…" He panted a bit, hoping that the man would believe him. He obviously did, as a smile grew on the man's face, and he stood, sweeping America off of his feet, and taking him down the hallway, past America's 'guest' room, and down to Russia's room, where they spent the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>Sorry for skipping a few hours in between chapters. I hope you guys could follow. But anyway! Woot! The climax is coming guys! No, not in Russia's bed. There will be some other stuff next chapter, which will probably be a relationship-building chapter, and then there will be one chapter that will be the climax, and then probably the epilogue. So three or four more chapters guys! I'll be gone until Wednesday, so don't expect our relationships to resolve until AT LEAST Thursday morning. Otherwise, have a capital day, and review~!<p> 


	12. Russians Are Scary Sometimes

Chapter 12

In the dull, amber light of dawn, the very thin, poorly-clad girl stepped out of her boss's house, looking at the still flaming hull of the American fighter jet. She turned her head back at the house, making sure no one had noticed her exiting it, and she wrapped her tattered brown scarf around her face, her uncharacteristically small nose easily fitting under it. With light, copper eyes, she scanned the area once more, and took a quiet step forward into the snow, her old, leather boots leaving thick footprints. She took a few more steps until she was out of earshot from the house, and then darted with the agility of wasted youth towards the plane, her scraggly fur coat flapping gently over her almost rag-ish pants and well-worn shirt, that fit rather tightly over her somewhat child-like frame. When she reached the flames, she looked around nervously. After all, she hardly ever saw anyone but her boss, Russia, the Baltics, occasionally Russia's sisters, and maybe St. Petersburg and Moscow every once and a while.

"Oh, Peter… You've gone and done it now…" She saw a crab come scurrying from the wreckage, but didn't question it. She went to the cockpit, and saw three boys of about her age, all trapped and unconscious.

"Oh dear… I'm no good at being strong… I hate being poor and starving and sick." She sighed, but kicked at the glass on the cockpit a few times, and produced a small crack.

"That is certainly not going to work…" She thought for a while before turning around, running to the nearest tree, extracting a large branch, and swinging with all her power at the glass, which shattered into small pieces. She stepped in, and dragged the three boys out one at a time. The first opened his eyes right at hitting the snow.

"Who… are you?" She looked down at him and smiled.

"I'm Yekaterinburg."

"Fargo… pleasure, I'm sure, Yekaterinburg…" She looked back up at the jet, and saw plenty more people who needed to be taken out. She looked back down at Fargo.

"I know you just woke up, but could you help me take them out?" Fargo looked over at the jet, stumbled up, and nodded. Together, the two of them had soon dragged all the American cities out of the plane. The Russian girl looked around at the different American cities, before looking up at Fargo, who began to try and address her.

"So why did you he—" before he could finish the word, he collapsed forward from something, and Yekaterinburg reached her arms out, ending up catching him with his head to her chest. She blushed very slightly, but thought he was unconscious again, and wasn't too concerned. She was about to lay him down when a small 'thanks' was emitted from his mouth. She blushed very brightly, her scarf falling away just enough to show the top of red tinge on her high cheekbones, her blond hair lightly resting just above the red. Fargo tried to stand up straight, but found a pair of arms wrapped around him, and his face into a Russian's smaller, though certainly quite noticeable, chest. He blushed some, and struggled slightly. She stared at him, and realized she was holding him hostage and submitting him to her cleavage. She blushed even more brightly, and let go of him, and he stood up straight, nearly toppling over backwards, but being saved by her grabbing both of his hands.

"Sorry…" She muttered quietly, watching the American's eyes. There was then the moment that people often hear about in storybooks and wonder if it is really entirely possible, when a girl looks at a boy, and a boy looks at a girl, and there is an instant connection between them that they only are aware of if they truly think about it. She now she thought, if this was what all Americans were like, it was no wonder Russia kidnapped the whole country. She found herself involuntarily looking up and down him with darting eyes, never too slowly so that he would catch her. In truth, though, Fargo was thinking somewhat similar thoughts. _If this is what Russians are like, why do we have to save boss…?_ He blinked a few times, his eyes occasionally darting to where his head had so recently been trapped.

"Ahem… well… it's okay…" He stammered. She smiled slightly, and blushed, though happily, at catching one of his quick darts. _I've got some rope in the jacket… I could just take him now…_ She silently chided herself. That was probably a bad idea… probably… She looked up again from staring at the snow, and found that they had somehow both stepped towards each other a little bit. She looked up at the slightly taller American boy, and watched his face. He raised a hand and gently touched her cheek. "Thanks again…" He smiled at her a bit, and she blushed to no end, but seemed less and less worried by that around Fargo.

She nodded. "I just couldn't leave you all out there…" She took the hand that was coming from her cheek, and had a strange urge to put it around her back. _I've never felt like this… around a boy before… I haven't been around enough boys to feel this, I suppose…_ They stared at each other awkwardly, not sure quite what the other was thinking, but hoping it was what they each were.

Fargo eventually regained his composure, and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. "It's probably time for a 'proper' introduction… I am Fargo. That is what most people call me."

Yekaterinburg giggled slightly as he smiled at her, and spoke more softly, like a teenage girl who has had a broken childhood. "I'm Yekaterinburg. Most people call me Yekat, though." She squeezed the hand that held onto hers, and giggled again. She stepped a bit closer, having now made up her mind. _Boss made up his mind pretty quickly… I can make up my mind too._ She smiled her innocent smile at Fargo, and stepped up to him, so she pressed against him lightly. Fargo couldn't resist but to hold her to him. She melted into him, smiling and putting her arms around him. Having never been comforted all of her childhood, this was the best thing she had ever felt. She wanted it to go on forever. But sadly, that couldn't last.

"Good job, Fargo! You caught one of 'em!" Chicago had stood up, and now clicked the loading pin of his pistol, pointing it at Yekaterinburg. She froze, and looked up at Fargo, then over at the teenage boy in the trench coat, terrified. There was another click, that resounded like two guns had been loaded. A Russian accent came from the other side of Yekaterinburg. "Drop it, American. Or I'll shoot you both." She turned her head to see St. Petersburg, wielding two pistols, and pointing one at Fargo, and one at Chicago.

"Now wait just a minute." New York stood behind St. Petersburg, holding his pistol and pointing it at him. St. Petersburg turned one gun so it was pointing at New York, glaring between the two fedora-wearing cities. There was another click, as Moscow stepped out from behind a tree, pointing her hunting rifle at New York as well. "Nyet, you wait just a minute. Drop the guns."

With yet another click, there were three more guns out and loaded. One was in Little Rock's hands, a shotgun, pointed at St. Petersburg. Another rifle was in Houston's, pointed at Moscow. Another pistol was in Dallas' hand, aimed at Yekaterinburg. St. Petersburg sighed. "Damn… well, we'll have to be a little… unorthodox I suppose." He dropped a pistol, kicked it so it fired off in a random direction, sending everyone ducking except Moscow, as Peter pulled out a smoke grenade, dropped it, and the world went grey. There was a loud grunting, and many protests and shouts. When the smoke cleared, Chicago, Little Rock, Houston, and Dallas were tied together, and both Moscow and St. Petersburg had two pistols again, pointing them at Detroit, who had extracted his chainsaw, Anchorage, who had drawn his rifle, Wall, who had his bucket ready to swing, and Baltimore, who had a switchblade in his hand a crab on his head. Fargo, Richmond, Washington D.C., Seattle, Los Angeles, Honolulu, Miami, New Orleans, Nashville, and Philadelphia all stood motionless, looking around for a sign of some activity… and for New York. They found both soon, as they saw the large city look down from the tree Moscow had stepped out from behind. He put a finger over his lips, shooting at St. Petersburg a moment afterwards. Peter returned fire, and pulled a radio from his belt. "Drop now. Drop now." A helicopter came down, and Moscow shoved the cities that had been tied up into it, following after them, and pulling St. Petersburg up into it as it took off again. New York and Anchorage shot at it, but had to drop down as a soldier on the side fired a machine gun down at them.

When the helicopter was out of sight, Baltimore marched over to the curled up, quivering Yekaterinburg, and lifted her up by the front of her shirt, and stared her in the face. "Where are they taking them? WHERE?" Yekaterinburg began to sob, and covered her face with her hands, shaking her head and muttering something in Russian. Baltimore breathed heavily, glaring at the blubbering girl, who really looked more like a mistreated child than a large Russian city. Fargo walked over to Baltimore, and put a hand on his arm. "Put her down, Bal…" Baltimore looked at Fargo oddly, and lowered Yekaterinburg back to her feet without question, following the orders of his captain. "Sure, Fargo…" The Russian girl immediately backed up against the tree, and sank down it into a curled up ball again, sobbing madly. Fargo looked at Baltimore with a frown, "Use discretion when interrogating, Bal… we won't learn anything from a girl in this condition." He stepped towards Yekaterinburg, and sat beside her, putting one hand on her leg. "I'm very sorry, Yekat… Do you know where they took them?" Yekaterinburg looked up at Fargo.

"Why? Are you going to kill them?"

"No, I just want my friends back."

"If you promise not to kill them…"

"I promise not to kill them."

"It's… an hour's walk away… I can take you there…"

"That would be very kind of you, Yekat." Yekaterinburg swallowed once, thinking about what she was about to request.

"But… but you have to kiss me…" She blushed, thinking how stupid she was for saying that out loud. It was probably a natural reaction to having not seen any boys who weren't taken or weren't undesirable, and now that she had seen a boy like Fargo she was just going through a stage... but her thought was interrupted by a pair of very gentle, very warm, and very skilled lips on hers, and she happily kissed him back. When he pulled away, he smiled. "Now will you take us to them?"

After about twenty minutes of walking, Wall looked around, shivering and clutching himself, his bucket sloshing around. Detroit looked over at the boy, a small glint of pity in his eye. He made his way towards him slowly, and after another couple minutes, he was beside him. "Need a lift?" He asked with his signature scary grin. Wall looked up at him and smiled, stumbling slightly, but before he could answer, Detroit had lifted him onto his back, walking with his ordinary stride, and holding him up. Wall gave a childish squeal and wrapped his arms around Detroit's neck lightly. Detroit grinned more, and simply continued walking, occasionally saying something dorky to the boy, who would giggle and tell him that he was silly.

At that same time, up at the front beside Richmond, Baltimore, Fargo and Yekaterinburg walked D.C. He watched the snow in front of them, his fingers playing absentmindedly with the handle of his gavel. He began to think about what it was like before the Civil War, when he and New Orleans were together. He imagined her walking alongside him, and them having a conversation. She'd look over at him, and tilt her head slightly, her purple beret sliding just a bit with the tilt, and she'd quietly ask, "D?" He shot back to reality, looking over at New Orleans, who was, in fact, beside him. He blushed a tinge, and blinked. "Hm?" Her brown skin shone a bit in the sunlight that reflected off the snow, her long black hair straight and messy as always. "What are we going to do when we get there?"

"What do you mean, Lin?"

"I mean… what's our plan? Do ya have one?" Silence. "If not, I might be able to cook one up…"

"Mm… okay."

"Do you know what the place we're going to looks like?"

"Fargo explained what the girl said to him…" He told her all he had heard from Fargo, and watched for a moment as she thought, then explained her idea. When she was done, she looked straight at his eyes.

"D… do you miss the old days?"

He blushed brightly. "What… what do you mean, Lin…?"

"I mean…" Now her tan cheeks turned a bit crimson, "When we were still… ya know… together…"

He looked at the snow for a moment. "Yes. I do."

"Me too…"

"Hmmm…"

"Hm?"

"I was just thinking…"

"About what?"

"Would you like to… well… try again?"

She stepped a bit closer, entwining her fingers with his. "I would love to." D.C. smiled, as the two of them walked on in the snow.

While those two things were happening, there was yet another meanwhile. Los Angeles was strolling rather absentmindedly, and up behind him came Seattle, who began to walk beside him. "L.A.?"

"Yeah dude?"

"We're friends, right?"

"O' course. I told you that already."

"Mhmm. Did… did you ever think about being… more than just friends?"

"Oh, sure, a couple times."

"Are… you thinking about it now?" They had both stopped, and Seattle was looking up at the slightly taller boy, blinking and wringing his hands that for once were devoid of Starbucks.

"Well, now that you've said it I am."

"I don't know about you… but I've always been the kind of person who acts on his thoughts before they go away and the whole opportunity is gone…"

"You have a real funny way of getting to the point, don't you dude?" He put his arms around Seattle and pulled him to himself, and the one being pulled stumbled forward a bit, his arms folded in front of him with his hands at nearly his chin, and looked up at the one who had just hugged him. "I act on my thoughts too. Just in a more direct way. I hope that's fine, dude…"

Seattle smiled slightly, reaching up and taking a strand of sandy blonde hair out of the other's face. "That's okay." He stood on his toes and gave Los Angeles a quick kiss. "I like direct."

* * *

><p>Okie dokeys kiddies! This was my somewhat thought about next chapter! Thought about as in I wasn't sure if it was upload-worthy. Luckily, I got it checked by a very kind person (thank you~) who said it was good. If you say otherwise, just review, kay ;D Actually, review ANYWAY. Regardless of whether you thought it was good or not. Just review. And it will feed my little Russia-chan and Yekaterinburg chibi in my brain. The more you review, the happier they are. Merry Monday to all, and to all a good night~!<p> 


	13. In Case This Doesn't Work

Chapter 13

Little Rock fought against her rope bonds, glaring at St. Petersburg, who paced back and forth in front of the Americans. Moscow climbed up the wooden steps to the platform they stood on, and took St. Petersburg's arm. "Peter… This is too far."

"What do you mean?"

"Shouldn't we just go and talk to boss?"

"Nyet. We can handle this ourselves."

"I know… but… it doesn't feel right."

"Why?"

"How should I know?" She snapped, making a frustrated face. She sighed, and scratched the back of her head, "The point is, this is more about you than about boss now… I don't think I can do it."

Peter watched her for a moment, then took her shoulders, "Moskva, what makes you think it is about me?"

"Ever since you got beaten… you're different…"

"I will never get beaten again. That is the only difference."

Moscow shrugged his hands off of her shoulders. "That's what I am talking about! You're trying to prove they can't beat you. What if Yekat gets hurt?"

"I will not let them hurt her."

"You are not doing anything to stop it now…"

Peter was silent, and turned away, pacing in front of the Americans again. Little Rock gnashed her teeth, and kicked at St. Petersburg. "When mah Nash gets here, he'll beatcha! Beatcha good!"

The Russian city glared, imbedding a ballistic knife inches above her head on the wooden pole. "Be silent. When he gets here, I will probably tie him up here with you myself." He turned to the soldiers who were lounging in the snow-covered field, and shouted in Russian. "Get up to your posts, you lazy asses. Who's going to watch if you are all lying in the snow?" They immediately sped off to the fence, climbing into the wire towers and watching the snow, each instilled with a new fear for their young-looking captain. He went back to pacing, after retrieving the ballistic blade from the wide-eyed girl's pole.

Chicago looked over at Little Rock. "Don't let 'im scare you. That's just what he wants. He wants you not to struggle. That way, he ain't got to do anything to keep you here if someone comes to save us. Just keep on being mad. He won't kill ya."

She turned only her eyes to the trench-coated boy, and watched his face, and nodded very slightly. She then looked back forward, attempting to mask the fear she felt with a façade of confidence.

At the same time, Houston extended his boot to nudge Dallas. "Sis… sis, you 'wake?"

She turned weary, sad eyes to him. "Yah… wish I weren't…"

"We'll get through. I promise."

"How can ya be so sure?"

"Ain't Washin'ton never left nobody behind. Fargo neither. Hadda drag 'em maself outta Nam. Washin'ton wouldn't stop shoutin' 'Dammit, there're still MIAs out there! Let go of me!' I couldn' let 'im go. Fargo were silent, but he were strugglin'. He watched too many pit traps there. It weren't no place or time we wanta 'member." He looked down at the boot he had nudged her with. "I figure, 'f Anchorage the on'y one strong 'nough sides Nyawk ta drag 'em back, and neither o' them never left no job unfinished, we got purty good chances…" He fell silent and examined the patterns of trodden snow on the platform, and winced as his hat fell off into it.

Meanwhile, on the hill above that very camp, a disgruntled D.C. frowned at the situation. "We're outmanned, outweaponed, and outfortified. We need a way in."

New Orleans leaned back, a hand on her saxophone. "I… may have an idea."

Fargo, just a few feet in front of them, lying on his back, turned his head. "Any idea's game now. We have no options."

New Orleans nodded, and chewed her thoughts before she spoke. "Well… I'm sure you guys know what I'm known for…"

Detroit scratched his head, leaning against a tree. "A lot of things. Bourbon… catfish… Mardi Gras…"

New Orleans looked up at him, "Mardi Gras. And… I'm sure you guys all know what happens on Mardi Gras…"

Anchorage patted his bear, looking out at the Russian camp, "You're gettin' to the point awful slow."

The girl sighed, and looked at her lap. "I could… distract the guards…"

Wall looked shocked, but didn't speak, instead staring up at Detroit, who didn't look back at him. Baltimore stood up from his reclining position, and dusted himself and his crab off, grunting, "I don't like it. Too much could go wrong. You could get hurt. And then Cap'd roast all our asses." Fargo glared at Baltimore at his choice of diction, and Baltimore finished a new thought, "And our cows, and our horses."

Richmond looked over at him, frowning slightly. "We don't have much choice. I don't see you seducing a male Russian guard."

Baltimore grinned, and fingered his belt buckle, "You forget too quickly, Rich." Richmond raised an eyebrow, but didn't question.

Seattle interrupted before the tangent continued. "I'm sorry, but I believe that New Orleans is probably our best option right now."

There was a general nod of agreement, and Los Angeles spoke up. "What about a few of you others? There's a whole hell of a lot of those dudes."

Honolulu looked at Miami, smirked, then looked back at everyone gathered. She spoke up in a joking tone, "I've always wondered what Mimi looked like naked. We can probably help."

Miami blushed brightly, and smacked the tan, slightly plump wrist of the Hawaiian girl standing beside her. Honolulu turned to her with a raised eyebrow and a flirty smirk. "Why are YOU blushing? Nervous about having me look at you?"

Miami smacked her wrist again, then spoke up, "I'll do it. That makes three of us."

Honolulu purred, and stroked Miami's shoulder, which earned her a strange look from the girl whose shoulder she was stroking.

Baltimore randomly interjected with a smirk, "Hey, Rich, what color are my bedsheets?"

Richmond shook his head and shrugged, "How should I know? We rolled them off before—" He stopped midsentence and his crab seemed to laugh at him. He looked up at Baltimore, "I am not a Russian soldier."

"Are you easier or harder to seduce?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Because you've never seduced anyone."

"Not true."

"Yes it is."

"What color are my bed sheets?"

"Blue. I WOULD know, because… oh, shit." Richmond laughed and Fargo glared at Baltimore once more.

Nashville leaned on his guitar. "All smutty anecdotes aside, we gotta git in there."

D.C. nodded, "Agreed. We just have three girls willing?"

New York looked over at Philadelphia. "The way Philly comes into every meeting with half her clothes on, I would have thought she'd be jumping up and down at this."

Philadelphia didn't avert her eyes from the wire fence around the camp. "I'll do it."

D.C. looked around at everyone. "We all still know the plan, yes?" Everyone nodded, and D.C. stood up. "Then, by God, it's about time we did something."

In twenty minutes, the four girls had stripped down slightly, leaving their jackets with the group, who hid in a clump of trees. The girls walked up to the gate, where the guards peered down at them. New Orleans tugged her beret in greeting. "Hey there, soldier." The Russian guard in charge of the gate looked at the soldier behind him, who grinned. The gate guard looked back, and waved somewhat stupidly. The tan girl giggled, and stepped towards the gate. "Wanna let some cold girls in?" She smiled alluringly, "We're just DYING for something… hot." The Russians immediately opened the gate, and the four girls slipped in, and walked, sliding their hips back and forth, towards the gatehouse. When they reached it, the gate had been closed, and the Russian guards inside opened the door excitedly. Honolulu stepped in first, sliding a finger along the door frame, followed by Miami, who smiled like a temptress, and third came Philadelphia, who stopped just inside the door to motion the nearest guard to her with her finger. He grinned and quickly went over to her. She stepped up to him, and put her arms around his shoulders, sliding her leg against his, and kissed him passionately. After a while of this interchange, she turned him slowly, and laid him backwards onto the control panel, hitting the lever for the gate, and opening it silently. New Orleans slipped in last, using her saxophone to jam the door from the outside before closing it, and engaging herself in the distraction of the guards.

When D.C., Nashville, New York, Anchorage, his bear, Detroit, Fargo, Baltimore, and Richmond crept into the camp, they silently stepped past the guard house. Baltimore stopped for a moment, looked in the window, and muttered something along the lines of 'damn, they're hot'. As there was no Wall around, Fargo made no protest. He did, however, tug on his arm, pulling him back to the group. They looked up at the huge platform, and Nashville looked at D.C. "That is an unexpected complication."

D.C. nodded, "Yekaterinburg hadn't seen it since they got here. They must have built it just for us." They looked around, and Nashville caught sight of New York, who was silently running towards the platform. Nashville Detroit hissed after him. "What are you doing?" New York grinned. "Thinking on my feet." He slipped past the Russians who occasionally marched by, and mounted the stairs, clicking his gun at St. Petersburg.

The boy with the hat turned, and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Expecting me to surrender?"

"It would make things a hell of a lot easier."

"Too bad." He shot his ballistic knife sideways, shattering an alarm button, and sending the wail across the whole camp. New York fired a shot, which St. Petersburg ducked, and then dove at New York's legs. His gun went flying, and he fell backwards, trying his best to defend himself against the Russian's assaults. Anchorage lumbered towards the barracks. "They're goin' to wake up. I'll sleep 'em again." His bear looked up at him, and followed. D.C. nodded. "Alright. Nashville, go help New York. Detroit, follow me. Fargo, Baltimore, Richmond, find that Moscow girl."

Anchorage kicked in the door of the first building with his heavy boot, and pointed his gun in, his fur coat flapping slightly. "Bear… you know what to do." The bear stood on its hind legs, saluted, and ran into the barracks where the men were hopping up and grabbing guns, and it roared, slashing at them. Anchorage shot the ceiling light, sending the room into darkness, and shot the alarm, so the only noise was yelling in Russian and growling and roaring in bear. Anchorage slammed the door shut, and let his eyes adjust, putting the gun on his back and grabbing the nearest blunt object. In the commotion, he slammed the object into anyone's head that came near the door, and in this way got them all to sleep again.

Detroit pulled out his chainsaw, revving it up and following D.C. They went to the opposite side of the camp as Anchorage, dodging bullets and running from the growing Russian soldier group. They ducked behind a barrel of oil, and D.C. looked at Detroit. "Ready?" Detroit grinned at him somewhat scarily. "Only if you are, Cap." D.C. put a hand on his leg. "It's been an honor."

"Honor's all mine."

A bullet soared over their heads. "Let's go." They leapt over the barrel, D.C. raising his gavel, and Detroit raising his chainsaw. They brought them down on the nearest Russians, and spun, fighting through them, and sending most of them scattering away to cover. They stood back to back; avoiding most everything the Russians shot at them, and took on everyone coming. When Detroit was close enough, he dropped the chainsaw, jumped over the oil barrel, and pushed it over, lifting the chainsaw again and cutting it open. He rolled it, sending a line of oil in a ring. When the ring was safe around him and D.C., he took a match, lit it on the saw, and dropped it onto the oil. It cascaded in flame, and the Russians jumped back. D.C. looked over at Detroit, ready to give congratulation while they made their way onward, but found Detroit clutching his side. D.C. ran over, putting his gavel away and taking Detroit's shoulders. Detroit collapsed to his knees, and the bespectacled boy kneeled beside him. "What happened?"

Detroit looked up with a smile. "One of 'em nicked me… just a scratch… I just need to sit here awhile…"

D.C. pressed his own hand over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "That's not just a scratch."

"It doesn't matter. You've got stuff you have to do."

"It can wait."

"So can I."

"But you don't have to."

"Cap… finish what we're supposed to. It's been an honor. It really has. Now if you don't get going, neither me nor anyone else will be fixable."

D.C. frowned, but his face hardened then, and he stood with a nod. "Take care of yourself, Detroit."

Detroit smiled. "You too, Cap." And D.C. ran off towards the signaling station to get the others.

Fargo, Baltimore and Richmond held themselves behind a cement barrier, pulling their shots with their rifles at the Russians, who returned fire. "Any sign of Moscow?" Fargo looked at his companions. They both shook their heads, and ducked behind the barrier for a moment. "Where could she be?" A string of bullets soared at them.

Richmond turned back over the barrier, firing a few shots and looking around. He ducked back down in a moment, and looked at Fargo and Baltimore. "Up on that platform. Opposite side as Nashville and New York. We'll have to get around." Fargo nodded, and the three of them recommenced firing, now mobile, towards the wooden platform.

Seattle dropped his binoculars and looked back at L.A., Yekaterinburg, and Wall. "I see Cap! Grab the guns!" They all took up their scoped rifles, and looked down them, firing calculated shots at the Russian soldiers, and sending them into hysteria. Wall grinned. "It's working! They think there's sixty of us!" Seattle responded without taking his eye from the scope. "Of course it's working! Just keep shooting!"

At the sound of the alarm, the Russian soldiers bolted upright, removing the girls from them, and ran over to the door, trying to open it, but finding it jammed with a saxophone. They turned, and New Orleans shrugged. But more disconcerting, the other girls had the soldiers' guns held like clubs.

When the girls exited the guardhouse, New Orleans using a little trick to open the door, three of them pulled out guns. New Orleans held her saxophone like a deadly weapon, and beat down the nearest Russian. She grinned, and ran off towards where D.C. was supposed to be. Philly went towards the platform, firing off her pistol as she went. Honolulu and Miami were left to duck behind a wall, and fire out at Russian soldiers. Miami, partway through this, randomly asked something. "Did you mean it when you said you wanted to see me naked?"

Honolulu fired a shot, then blinked a few times. "You know how awkward that question is, yah?"

"Yeah, but I'm curious."

Lulu took Miami's arm, and spun her around, looking at her coldly. You have an odd way of being curious."

Miami blinked, and tried to struggle away. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean it to be offensive… I just…"

"Weren't thinking." Honolulu bent forward, planting a solid, strong kiss on Miami's lips. "Shape up, and maybe I'll give you an answer, yah?"

Miami blinked once more, but Honolulu had already gone back to firing. She turned, firing as well, but thinking much more about something else.

New York flipped St. Petersburg onto his back, and tried to hit him. His hits were all blocked, and he was soon kicked off of the Russian boy. Peter punched at him, and he raised his arm to block it. He exchanged another blow, and the same thing occurred. They kicked, punched, and looked rather like something you might see in a good movie with a good fight scene. But the equal ground could only go on so long. St. Petersburg eventually came close enough to New York's gun to pick it up. New York stopped, and watched as the gun was pointed to his forehead. "Goodnight, Capitali—" A guitar cracked down on St. Petersburg's head, and Nashville stood behind him, looking down at the now squirming Russian. He looked back at New York. "Looked like ya needed a hand."

New York smiled. "Well, I suppose I did."

They both wheeled at the sound of a Russian accent. "Hey!" Moscow stood, hunting knife in hand, and breathing heavily. New York grabbed his gun, and Nashville held his guitar like a weapon.

Little Rock kicked at nothing. "Git 'er, Nash! Git 'er!"

Moscow shook her head, and raised her hands in peace. "I don't want to fight. Just let me get to Peter. You can even use my knife." She held out the knife, and New York snatched it quickly, stepping back. She walked, hands visible, and knelt beside St. Petersburg. New York went over to Dallas, and cut the rope behind her, looking up at the pulley-rope above him, that went to the gate at the front of the camp. "You miss me?"

"Not a bit."

"Liar."

Dallas blushed hotly, and New York wrapped an arm around her, kissing her. She melted for a moment, but then regained herself and pushed him away. "What the hell was that for?"

"In case this doesn't work." He lifted her up by her waist, and jumped up, grabbing the slider on the rope, and slid down, Dallas screaming and clinging the whole way. At the bottom, he jumped off, and she clung to him still. He looked down at her. "You're still clinging. I thought you didn't like me."

"I DON'T. I'm jes' scairt…"

"I'm sure."

"Terrified. Of what. You. Jes'. Did."

He leaned towards her, so their noses brushed. "I suppose you'll be terrified all night long."

She glared for a moment, then the glare softened a bit, and she looked down at his lips. "Prob'ly… an' mornin'…"

New York grinned, and kissed her again, and she put her arms more tightly still around him.

Nashville shook his head at the New Yorker's antics, and took the dropped knife, cutting Houston out first, who thanked him, then Chicago, and last Little Rock. Little Rock practically fell onto him, clinging tightly. "Nash… thank God you come."

Nashville smiled, and hugged her back. "Of course I come. I couldn'a left ya here."

She looked up at him and smiled, putting her head on his chest.

Philadelphia was just coming up the stairs as Chicago was freed, and, still two-thirds naked, she tackled him over. He grinned up at her, and she grinned down at him. "Don't you ever get captured again, unless it's in a guardhouse with me." She winked, and he laughed.

While the two American couples reunited, Moscow took St. Petersburg's hand. "Peter…"

He looked up at her dimly. "Moskva?"

She sniffled. "Stop fighting… please. I'm done with all this fighting."

St. Petersburg blinked at her, as if he had forgotten he was fighting. "Sure… sure, Moskva." He tilted his head slightly. "So… you said a few days ago… that you had something to tell me…"

She blushed, and scooted closer to him. "I can't say it out loud…"

"Why is that?"

"It's… quiet."

"Can you write it down?"

"Nyet… but I can show you." She lowered herself onto him, laying down, and putting her hands beside his head, and kissing his nose lightly.

St. Petersburg smiled. "I'll stop fighting forever if you do that again."

But before Moscow could lean down to do it once more, a loud, booming voice shouted across the field. "EVERYONE, STOP!"

* * *

><p>So, I hope you all liked that... there's just one last chapter that will tie up all the loose ends. If you want anything in that chapter, please request it. Also, please review, and have a bene day~!<p> 


	14. Goodbye, But Not Forever!

Chapter 14

"EVERYONE, STOP!" The words seemed to hang in the air like a fog, a mist that eclipsed the mind and could only be peered through. Everyone turned to the sound of the voice, and there stood two people at the gate. One was a large man with blond hair, a scarf wrapped around his neck, and a long brown coat. The other was a slightly smaller man in a bomber jacket and a dress shirt and glasses, and this second one had his hand raised and extended in command. New York grinned from the few feet away he was, and shouted, "Boss! You're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay." America turned to him with a grin as well, then looked around at everyone. "Jeez guys, calm down a bit."

Russia frowned at St. Petersburg and Moscow, crossing his arms. "Peter, what did I tell you about diabolical plots to maim, injure, or kill other cities without my consent?"

Peter looked ashamed, sitting up and looking down. "To stop…"

"Is this stopping?"

"Nyet…"

"Now I want you to apologize, da?"

"I'm not a child!"

"Do not talk back to me."

"Sorry… I am sorry…"

"That's better."

Seattle, Yekaterinburg, Wall, and Los Angeles stepped out from behind the two countries, and America looked around, "Now no more fighting, guys. Let's be friends and party. Nobody's dead, right?"

Many Russian soldiers looked up, missing limbs, having huge gashes, or obviously broken bones, many inflicted by a chainsaw, but there appeared to be no one dead, as they shook their heads. But at that moment, Washington D.C. came out from between the buildings that he and Detroit had passed, holding Detroit in his arms, the other boy hanging limp and cold. D.C. shook his head, and sniffled once or twice. "No… I think somebody might be, boss…" D.C.'s large glasses slid slightly down the bridge of his nose, and hung on the tip, round and tear-stained, as the boy carried his terrible burden to the center of the field. He went to his knees as he placed Detroit in the snow, sniffling again.

Wall burst out from Seattle and L.A., falling to his knees and shaking Detroit's shoulders, sobbing. "No… wake up! Wake up, Detroit!" There was no response from the sadly smiling body. Fargo leapt off of the platform he had just gotten to the top of, and careened his way to Detroit, whipping his medical bag from somewhere unknown and pulling out some bandaging, quickly wrapping around Detroit's torso. The bandage swiftly reddened. Fargo pointed to the red stain. "He's still alive." He looked up at Wall. "You still got that ice water?" Wall nodded, and drew out his bucket, handing it to Fargo, who lightly strained some of it onto Detroit's face. At first, there was no reaction. He did so again, and then continued with it for a while, and, just to make sure he didn't have to pull out a defibrillator, he checked for a pulse. He nodded knowingly, and poured a bit of the icy water onto Detroit's neck. A slow hand groped upwards toward the neck, and eventually rubbed it, and Detroit's eyes flickered open.

"What took you guys so long?" He grinned weakly at Fargo, looking around the camp. Fargo smiled and leaned back onto his legs, sitting on his calves, and Wall smiled as well, brushing tears away. D.C. gave no action towards concealing his emotions, and raised his arms into the air in victory. Fargo looked oddly at him, "You know, that really isn't necessary."

"He was dead."

"No he wasn't."

"I thought he was."

"That's your problem, now isn't it, Cap?" Fargo chuckled and stood up, smiling over at Yekaterinburg. She smiled back, and then the camp grew silent.

After a minute or two of an awkward quiet with everyone looking around at each other, America threw his hands in the air, "Guys, come on! Let's party!" It didn't quite get the response he had intended, as everyone just stared at him. Russia turned to him with a smile, "Sounds good to me, da?"

_Three hours and a setup in Russia's yard later…_

America lounged in a chair beside Russia, for once slowly eating a hamburger. He would occasionally look over at Russia with an eye of wonder, admiration, and affection, but would blush slightly and look away when Russia's smiling eyes met his. They occasionally exchanged silent conversations, their chairs only inches apart, and some of the conversations were far less silent. After a few minutes, America felt a large warm hand on his own, and looked up at Russia, who smiled at him. He smiled back, and turned the hand over, interlocking their fingers into one substance, one locked ball of feeling between the two people. St. Petersburg and Moscow leaned against the wall, chatting and smiling, watching the other people and speaking softly, laughing to themselves and each other, and leaning against one another. Houston stood among a few others, quietly drinking, and occasionally looking over at the large stereo America had placed in the yard, and tapping his foot quietly to the music. He stood beside Nashville and Little Rock, and the three of them talked and laughed like friends always do. New Orleans and D.C. sat in the snow, talking softly, and had their hands already connected. New Orleans kept scooting closer and closer, leaving an obvious trench in the snow where she had been sitting before. Seattle and L.A. stood in the middle of the yard with Anchorage, New York, Dallas, Chicago, and Philadelphia. They all chatted and drank out of vodka bottles, occasionally dancing oddly. Detroit sat in his chair, Wall by his feet, playing with his bucket, and they looked at each other and smiled, or talked quietly about something. Fargo stood bewildered, looking around for his two friends. Anchorage's bear laid beside the stereo, munching on a large piece of meat and occasionally lapping out of a bowl of vodka.

Fargo turned to New York. "Have you seen Baltimore or Richmond anywhere?"

"Nope." Fargo frowned, and looked around again, wandering around the side of the house. He heard a giggle and an, "Mmmm, do that again…" and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He walked over to the corner of the house, and looked around it to see Miami up against Honolulu on the wall, kissing her neck, and her hands stroking up her sides. Fargo's face went flat, and he knocked on the wall. "Ladies." Honolulu looked at Fargo in surprise, and Miami wheeled around, blushing brightly. Fargo leaned against the wall. "Get back to the party. Be social. You two are so good at being social normally. Why don't you go and be social again?" Miami silently nodded and rushed past Fargo towards the yard, and Honolulu frowned at Fargo as she walked by with a, 'What did you have to do that for?' look on her face. Fargo shrugged, and walked on, turning the corner again, looking around for a while, and as he was about to turn back towards the yard, he heard another giggle from the same spot. He turned around, and looked around the corner to tell the girls more sternly, but blinked once or twice instead. What he saw before him was Baltimore against the wall and Richmond's mouth on his neck. Baltimore had a contented smile on his face, and his eyes were shutting, until he saw Fargo. He pushed Richmond off of him, and said convincingly, "Get off of me!" Richmond was confused for a moment, then saw Fargo, and froze. Fargo laughed, and leaned against the wall. "You two haven't changed a bit.

Baltimore glared, and muttered, "Shut up…"

Fargo laughed again, and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. He felt a pinch on his toe, and jumped up, looking down at Baltimore's angry crab. The crab advanced, and Fargo looked up at Baltimore. "If that thing gets too close, I WILL kill it and eat it." The crab seemed to understand the words, and advanced faster with a look of anger on its crabby face. Suddenly, a little ragged boot kicked the crab over onto its back, and Yekaterinburg stood beside Fargo. The crab rolled over and crawled back to Baltimore, defeated. Fargo grinned, and looked at Yekaterinburg. "Thanks."

"Pajlyoosta." She smiled back at him, and hugged him softly, then he lifted her up, carrying her like one does a burlap sack. She squealed madly, and Fargo looked back at the two other boys as he went. "Get back to the party. Now." They all walked back together, and took their drinks and talked quietly, laughing.

Russia looked at America with a smile. "At least everything worked out, da?"

"Yep!"

"So… are you going to go back with them?"

"Yeah, probably."

Russia looked back at the cities a little sadly, and was silent for a while. America turned his head to watch him slightly, and then spoke carefully, "I could always visit… I suppose…"

Russia's head swiveled slightly towards America, "Da… I suppose you could…"

"Or… you could come and… visit me…" America blushed slightly, and Russia smiled to the same degree as the blush, and leaned forward, kissing America's cheek.

"I would love to, da?"

America smiled very slightly, and put an arm around Russia. "Okay."

"I'll leave shortly after you do."

America laughed and hugged Russia softly, "Then I might as well stay."

"Da… you might as well…"

America looked at him with a little smile. "I guess I will, then."

* * *

><p>And that's all, folks. I hope you enjoyed NITH. Please review the story as a whole, and I hope you liked the ending. If not, I'm sorry. They will show up in other stories, I promise. And I do take requests. Yep. The requests might take six months, but I'll definitely write them. So... yeah! (Include desired rating with request) Have a fantabulous day!<p> 


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